


Twelve Days of Courtship

by Kayasurin



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angsty Bunny, Bunny has low self-esteem, Courtship, Eight Maids a Milking, Eleven Pipers Piping, Five Golden Rings, Fluff, Four Calling Birds, Gen, Jack Has a Plan, M/M, Nine Ladies Dancing, Rated M for Eventual Smut, Seven Swans a Swimming, Six Geese a Laying, Ten Lords a Leaping, Three French hens, Twelve Days Of Christmas, Twelve Drummers Drumming, Two Turtle doves, a Partridge in a pear tree, human!Bunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Jack waited for Bunny to make a move, he'd be three thousand years old and the overgrown rabbit would still be dithering about asking Jack out for a coffee. So he makes a plan. And hey, when (if) it all works out, Bunny will have the best of reasons to avoid Christmas parties from here on out.<br/>Updated Daily until Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Day of Christmas

_On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aster glowered at the store display, the plethora of red and green lights competing with - and losing to - the cornucopia of holiday sale signs. It was December thirteenth, and there were less than two weeks left before North’s big day. The annual celebration of greed and commerce had been under way since just after Halloween, this year, with only a short break for Thanksgiving gluttony. And instead of doing the sensible thing and hiding away until February at the earliest, Aster was out in the midst of it all.

And it was all Frostbite’s fault!

“You know,” Jack said, sounding amused. “I can all but hear the ‘bah, humbug!’ You should think quieter.”

“More wondering why I went along with this bullpucky,” Aster retorted. About time the idiot showed up. Another five minutes and Aster would’ve headed back to the Warren. There was apple cider, sweet and alcoholic, waiting in the kitchen. He’d need it, after this.

He turned to look at Jack, and then had to just… stare. The brain shut down, the eyes threatened hysterical blindness, and it was impossible to look away.

Someone had let the idiot steal, beg, or borrow tinsel, holly leaves, and ribbon. He’d made himself a kind of crown, the whole mess frosted over, with tiny icicles dripping off the leaves. He’d found fake, pointed elf ears somewhere, and then for some reason painted them green. He’d swapped out his usual blue sweater for an ugly, multi-colored knit with one of the worst depictions of Santa Aster had ever seen.

And he had an entire mistletoe bush tied to the crook of his staff.

“Bunny?” Jack asked, and tilted his head to the side. The… crown… shook and threatened to fall off.

Aster, movement restored, clapped a hand over his eyes. “Hysterical blindness.”

“Funny.” He heard the tap-tap-tap of Jack’s staff against the snow covered roof. “C’mon, you promised!”

He sighed. He had. And, not that he’d admit it, but he’d rather chew a leg off than disappoint Jack.

“Right.” He lowered his hand, and looked warily at Jack. “Lead on.”

Jack’s grin was positively blinding, or maybe that was just Aster’s opinion. “Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war?” he suggested.

“This isn’t a war.”

The winter spirit looked out and down at the street. The very crowded street. “Are you sure?”

They walked along the rooftops. This part of town, the roofs were all mostly or entirely flat, the buildings crowded so closely together a skinny cat would have trouble walking between the buildings. The streets were narrow enough even a human could have jumped across, though he’d have had to be in superior physical condition. For two spirits, it was hardly more effort than a little hop.

Well, a hop for Aster. Jack just flew across. Threw a couple snowballs down into the crowds, too.

“We should visit New York,” Jack said. “Manhattan, maybe. _That’s_ a fun skyline.”

“Flying through?”

“Running.”

Aster thought about that. Scrambling up the side of a high rise, launching himself across the gap, heights and speed…

“Dubai,” he said. “I’d rather Dubai.”

Down on the street, a group of carolers began an off-key rendition of “jingle bells”. Aster winced, and rubbed the base of his ear. “Why’d I agree to this, again?” he asked.

Jake yoked his staff over his shoulders. “Because you love me,” he said, and began to spin in circles as he walked. He got dizzy quickly, staggering and almost falling over.

Aster snorted, the better to hide his flinch. Jack had cut a bit close to Aster’s reasons with that comment. Some might even say he’d hit the nail on the head. Not that Jack knew; Aster had taken care to keep the extent of his feelings hidden. They were friends again, and that was enough. There was no point in looking for more.

“So,” Jack said, and pointed ahead of them. Burgess had a tree set up in the small ‘town square’, a patch of green in front of the town hall. The tree hadn’t been decorated yet, though by the scaffolding set up around it, that wasn’t too far off. “Gonna watch the tree lighting ceremony with me later?”

Aster grunted. “Maybe.” He might skip if he were vomiting blood, but otherwise… yeah. Well. No need to be obvious about it.

Jack grinned again, and laughed. A few children, accompanying their parents, looked up. Jack waved at them; Aster ducked down to hide his silhouette.

Not that he was in danger of being seen. Belief in the Easter Bunny always waned this time of year. Same way belief in Santa went down over the summer, or how the children didn’t think about Tooth until they had something to put under the pillow.

It was part and parcel of being spirits, of children being the way they were, a natural cycle. Rankled, sometimes, but Aster was old and used to it by now.

“Hey, Cottontail,” Jack said. He turned away from the edge of the roof, and bounced on his toes. “Feel like a race?”

Aster tilted his ears forward. “Where to?”

“Yarn Warehouse.”

It took him a moment to remember where that was. “Why not?”

Jack whooped and _launched_ himself into the air. Aster honked in surprise and went running after. “That’s cheating!” he yelled, grinning despite or because of Jack’s audacity.

“You think?” Jack yelled back, and then flew low so he could spin around a light pole.

Aster chuckled, and dropped to all fours to run _properly_. Jack whooped again; Aster could feel the wind carrying the boy nipping at his heels. He leapt across a road at the diagonal, and then made another leap, making a wide turn around the corner.

He ducked a thrown snowball, startled a small flock of pigeons into taking off, and got hissed at by a cat. His heart pounded and the air was cold and sharp in his throat and lungs.

It felt wonderful.

And Jack - Jack flew in front of him, beside him, behind him. Laughing the entire time, the sound bright and gleeful and continuous. Crown and sweater aside, he was beautiful.

Aster was paying too much attention to his opponent and not enough to where he put his feet. He knew that, and yet the slick ice underfoot caught him by surprise. It was on the steeply angled roof of a church or something, and he had to scramble and lurch until he collected himself enough to jump onto a safer building.

“Bunny?” Jack called, dipping low. “You okay?”

“Apples!” And he was. It hadn’t even put a hitch in his stride. Or not _much_.

The town wasn’t big enough for the race to last more than a few minutes. Jack ended up winning, only because he cheated. His wind threw up powdery snow, and Aster was blinded for the critical moment. Or at least, that was what he’d say if questioned. Jack didn’t need to know that, as he’d swooped down towards the Warehouse roof, his sweater hem had pulled up and revealed a slice of pale white skin.

The show pony was doing a victory dance - well, it could charitably be called a dance - when Aster jumped down onto the Warehouse roof. There was a great deal of punching the sky, shuffling the feet, and wiggling the hips. The latter, particularly, caught Aster’s attention. After a few seconds he returned his attention to Jack’s face.

“Rack off, you bastard,” he said, and shoved lightly at the winter spirit’s shoulder. Jack just grinned, and shoved back.

“You’re just being a sore loser,” he said, and caught up his staff with a clever bit of foot-and-finger work. That sort of thing put _ideas_ in Aster’s head. He shoved the most recent ones back into a mental closet, and folded his arms.

“Well? Let’s go,” Jack said.

“Lose the hat.”

“The…” Jack pulled off his crown, and shrugged. “Sure.”

Getting in to the building was almost stupidly easy, for someone with Aster’s resources. He tapped open a rabbit hole, and the two of them jumped in. The tunnel opened up inside the Warehouse; the whole thing probably took thirty seconds, if that. Jack picked the flower that sprang up when the tunnel closed, and tucked it behind one ear.

If he’d been alone, Aster supposed, Jack would’ve had to wait for closing, and would have had to go in through a window or something. Aster’s method, not only easier, meant they weren’t restricted to a particular time. Probably why he’d asked for the company.

The Yarn Warehouse didn’t just sell yarn. The two of them had to pass through aisles of sugary junk food and kitchen nonsense - what the hell was a ‘slappy’ and what crazed person would want one? - and more aisles of bath towels and fitted bed sheets. The craft supplies, predictably, were to the back of the store. And while closer to the front they had to dodge around shopping humans - and sometimes got walked through, painfully - the back seemed abandoned.

Aster had no idea if that was usual or not, but it was good for the two spirits. Getting walked through… well, Jack sometimes got hysterical, these days, and to be honest Aster often felt a bit weepy too.

“What colors do you think Jamie will like?” Jack asked. He skipped a few aisles of yarn. Then, when he looked back and saw Aster’s confusion, said, “That’s tapestry yarn. Or embroidery.”

Ah, that made… no sense at all. There were different kinds of yarn? It was _spun wool_. How many different kinds could there _be_?

“Gobdaw likes wild and crazy now, doesn’t he?” Aster said, once he’d stopped wondering over the differences between tapestry, embroidery, and knitting yarn. “And what’re you making him, anyways?”

“That’s a secret,” Jack said. He was picking through the racks of yarn.

Aster looked at the yarn on the other side of the aisle, and frowned. That yarn looked like a bunch of clumped up spider webs. How was anyone supposed to knit with that?

“I don’t want something he’ll only grow out of and stop using,” Jack said. “What about this?” He held up a ball of yarn, a rich brown color. It looked thick and soft.

“Looks good,” Aster said.

Jack checked the label. “Damn. Kid’s allergic to wool.” He put the yarn back and continued down the aisle.

People could be allergic to wool? Aster blinked, and followed after Jack. Whereupon he learned that humans had come up with fake-wool, called acrylic, that came in even _more_ colors than the real wool had. Jack seemed delighted. There was even, to Aster’s bemusement, something called ‘bamboo yarn’. Apparently made out of bamboo. It was very fluffy and soft when he touched the ball, but the idea of it was strange enough that he didn’t suggest it to Jack.

“Hey, Bunny, you’re the artist,” Jack said, and held up a handful of yarns. “What do you think?”

There were four colors: a harvest gold, a brown the exact shade of cinnamon sticks, and a red-brown like cedar wood. The fourth color was a soft, sky blue that stood out against the more earthy tones.

“Well,” Aster said, and took the balls of yarn from Jack. Oh, soft, too. “Not bad. You got a pattern, at least?”

Jack smirked and quirked one eyebrow. “Of course. Not on me, ‘cause…” He gestured at himself. “No pockets. But it called for, y’know, four colors, so… four colors.”

Well, three harmonizing colors and one contrasting would make for a very striking combination. He had no idea what the pattern was, though. And he really wanted to know what Jack was making. He hadn’t even known Jack could knit before getting invited out on this little jaunt.

“The colors’ll do,” he allowed, and handed the yarn back to Jack. “How much do you need?”

“Ah…” Jack stared off into the distance in thought. “Probably seven of each? Maybe eight would be better.”

“What’re you making, a blanket?”

Jack shrugged, and began grabbing balls of yarn. “It’s a surprise,” he said, clearly trying for sulky and only managing smug.

Aster collected the balls of blue yarn. “Will it be done in time?”

The winter spirit shrugged again, arms overflowing with yarn. Aster caught a few would-be escapees. “Not like I sleep in the winter,” Jack reminded him. “And practice has made me very speedy at this.”

True enough. Although Aster still didn’t know how Jack had learnt knitting without the Pooka finding out about it… Well, maybe Jack had learnt after 1968. “How’s the kid gonna explain the prezzie?”

“He told his mom that I’m an internet friend from up in Alaska. Anchorage. I work after school at the airport and want to be a pilot for small planes when I grow up, delivering supplies to people who live way out in the bush.” Jack grinned, and led the way to the nearest service counter. “I actually took a camera up there and did some scenery photographs as proof.”

Aster supposed the lie was for a good cause. “Right enough.” He followed after Jack. “I know you said you’d pay for this, but how?”

“Watch and learn,” Jack said. He winked, grinned some more, and dropped the balls of yarn onto the counter. Aster followed suit. Then Jack vaulted the counter with contemptuous ease and pulled a portable scanner-thinga-ma-bob from one of the shelves underneath. He scanned the yarn, bagged it while a receipt printed, and nodded to himself.

“Ninety-seven dollars, twelve cents,” Jack muttered. “Might as well make it a round hundred.” Then he reached down the collar of his sweater and pulled out an old fashioned men’s purse. It was more like a cloth sack, about the size of his hand, than anything like the bags currently in fashion for women to haul stuff around in.

Then Jack pulled out a roll of crumpled bills out of the purse. The roll was as big around as Aster’s fist.

“What the bloody hell!”

Jack looked up from where he was counting out bills. “People drop money,” he said. “I tend to pick it up. Usually I donate it.”

Made sense, Aster supposed, but still. The visual was an odd one. He picked up the bags when Jack finished his counting, and put most of the money back in his purse. “Now what?”

“Now I duck up front, slip the receipt and cash into the till, and when they count the money at the end of the like it’ll look like the register had a hiccup or something. Wait here?”

Aster nodded, and leaned back against the service counter. He watched Jack until he disappeared from sight. Clever ploy, this. And a good way to get what Jack wanted, without causing trouble. It didn’t take long for Jack to return, skipping instead of walking.

The Pooka did his best not to look _too_ fond.

Though he was. Very.

“There we go,” Jack said, and took half the bags. “Let’s go.”

Aster tapped open a tunnel, and they jumped in. The tunnel let out in the back parking lot of the warehouse, in a little corner that hadn’t been paved over and so didn’t have anything parked on it.

“You were a big help, Cottontail.” Jack bent down and picked the inevitable flower, and tucked it behind his other ear. Now he had two, one a sunny daffodil, the other a pale purple flax. At least he hadn’t put the crown back on. It was probably still on top of the Warehouse.

“Ah, what’re friends for?” Aster set the bags down, and folded his arms. He missed his coat. Crossed arms were a bit more aggressive than he wanted to look, but hands in the pockets were relaxed. Well, Jack knew him, and knew he wasn’t upset by anything.

“Yeah, well, still.” Jack reached into one of his bags, and pulled out something small. He tossed it at Aster, who caught it automatically.

It was a small, plastic figurine. A partridge sitting on a tree branch, a pear tree if the pears among the leaves meant anything. The colors were a bit off; to be honest, it was one of the saddest excuses of a paint job he’d seen in a long time. The yellow for the pears extended onto the leaves, while the partridge’s lower half was more green than brown. It was covered in glitter that shed onto Aster’s hand.

“I’ve got to get going, get started on…” Jack hefted the bags, a little awkwardly. “Anyways. I’ll see you later, Easter Scrooge.”

“What’s this for?” Aster inquired, before Jack could take off. For what looked like a five cent hunk of plastic, his heart was threatening to get very gooey very quickly. He turned it over in his fingers, studying the different angles.

“You don’t like it?” Jack asked, looking disappointed.

“Nah.” Aster closed his hand around the little figurine. “She’s apples. Just wondered.”

Jack tilted his head to the side, and then treated Aster to a rare, shy little smile. Aster was the only one who got that smile, and Aster felt the same flush of pleasure at seeing it as the first time. “It’s a riddle,” Jack said. It took Aster a moment to remember what they were talking about. “Anyways.”

“Anyways,” Aster echoed, and stepped back so Jack could fly away. He watched, until the blue sky swallowed the winter spirit up.

Out down the street, carolers began a rendition of “The Twelve Days of Christmas”.

Aster looked down at the little figurine, and wished hope didn’t hurt so much.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_… a partridge in a pear tree…_


	2. Second Day of Christmas

_On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hello the cranky rabbit’s house!”

Aster about jumped out of his skin, and he did drop the plate he’d been drying off. It splashed into the sink, managing to soak his front, but thankfully didn’t break. He didn’t have too much by way of dishes. If he lost another plate or bowl, he’d have to set aside a bit of time to collect more clay, then shape and fire the new bit of pottery, then get the clay out of his fur.

“What the… Jack!” He moved over to the kitchen window, and glared out from between the bundles of herbs hung in the window to dry. “ _What_?” he snapped.

“Hey, fluffy!” Jack waved his hand over his head, and then leaned forward against his staff. “Come out and play!”

Aster growled, and shoved his idiotic libido aside. Jack didn’t mean it that way. Never had, never would. “I’m busy,” he told the winter spirit. “Go away.”

“No,” Jack whined, drawing the word out so it had five or six syllables. “I wanna spend time with you!”

Well… complimentary. That was something.

“Fine. But you can dry. Door’s open.” Aster ducked back inside, and returned to his dishes. After a minute, he heard the front door creak open, and the faintest sound of wood against packed earth when Jack leaned his staff up in a corner.

“ _You’re_ doing dishes?” Jack picked up the drying cloth, and took the plate Aster gave him. “Has the world ended yet?”

“Don’t freeze the water. An’ no, it hasn’t ended. Just got tired of having nothing to eat off of.”

“You should think about trencher bread,” Jack said, and nodded with what _seemed_ to be sage wisdom. “You can eat it or throw it out after. No clean up.”

“Except whatever you used to cook,” Aster said, but he couldn’t help but sound amused. “What do you want, Frostbite?”

Jack huffed. “I’m bored,” he admitted. Then he pouted. “Entertain me.”

“I’m not here on this earth just to keep you entertained, ya gobdaw.” Aster handed him another plate. “Go see North if you want entertainment.”

“He’s got crazy eyes and killed my sweater.”

Aster looked down at Jack’s sweater in question. He was back to his usual blue, hooded sweater. It didn’t look dead to him.

“No,” Jack said. “My other sweater. The ugly one. I was going to win a contest with that one!”

“Its death could only be considered a good thing,” Aster said. “It’d cause hysterical blindness in everyone that saw you. Millions would perish.”

“Dozens, and no one would die from my sweater.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Anyways, it was my favorite ugly sweater and North set it on fire!” He paused, and added, “You’re my friend, you’re supposed to feel sorry for me.”

“You’re an idiot.” Aster gave him a bowl, this time. “Just a few odds and ends left.”

“Okay. And I’m not an idiot. I’m a maniac. There’s a difference.” Jack gave a prim little sniff, and dried off the bowl.

“So you don’t want ta visit North,” Aster said. He fished around in the water for the spoons and knives he’d dropped in there. “Why not Tooth, or Sandy?”

“Tooth’s been on a three week tear about all the junk food kids eat in December,” Jack said. He twisted the drying cloth between his hands. “And Sandy’s working overtime. I think? I mean, the sand goes out, so…”

“Lots of personalized good dreams this time of year,” Aster said. “Holiday and all.”

“Yeah, well, he’s kind of distracted, so I don’t want to bother him. You’re not doing anything.” Jack looked slyly at Aster, and then took the cutlery Aster handed him. “Entertain me.”

“I got weeding next.”

“Wow. You must be bored or something. Actual, honest to goodness chores.”

“Oy!” Aster mimed a swing at Jack’s head. The winter spirit ducked, laughing. “I gotta get the fields cleared out for the egg plants later. Easter’s only a few months away.”

“Isn’t it April this year?”

“So?”

Jack shrugged and dumped the cutlery in the drying tray, where they’d stay until Aster needed a spoon or knife. “Guess it doesn’t matter. But c’mon, Bunny, you can do the weeding any day. Come out and play with me!”

Play with Jack… Aster’s fingers twitched. He had a few games he’d like to play with Jack…

No. Bad Pooka. No deviant sexual thoughts about one’s best friend.

“I assume you’ve got plans?” he asked. Jack lit up.

“Yeah! Don’t worry, it won’t make you get all twitchy anti-Christmas. This is more winter fun stuff then Christmas stuff.” Jack turned and ran deeper into Aster’s home. He was back in a minute, Aster’s old green coat slung over one shoulder. “Here. You’ll want this.”

Aster took the coat and swung it on. “Do I want to know how you found this?” he asked. The coat was a bit tight around the shoulders, and wasn’t as snug about the waist anymore. He’d put on muscle and lost weight, it seemed. The sleeves were a little short as well, but if he remembered right they’d always been that way.

“Hey, you’re the one that keeps falling asleep when I’m visiting. You can’t blame me for poking around.”

Aster rolled his eyes. “Sure I can. You’re the only one who’d ignore good manners and do that, anyways.”

Jack picked up his staff, which still had a mistletoe bush tied to the crook. Aster stared at the bush and wondered _why_. “Fine. You were rude first, falling asleep like that. I just evened the scales is all.”

“Jack, my coat was buried in my bedroom closet. Which means you’ve been in my bedroom. That’s not polite.”

“Come on, Bunny.” Jack held the door. “Stop dwelling so much in the past. We’re going to Quebec City, Quebec.”

Aster raised his eyebrows, but tapped open a tunnel. “What’ve you got planned?”

“You’ll see.” Jack dropped into the tunnel. The wind began to whistle through the tight confines. “C’mon!”

Well. Aster shook his head and jumped in after Jack. He’d find out, one way or the other.

The trip wasn’t a long one. They came out on a hill above the nearby river. They could run and fly, respectively, to wherever it was Jack wanted to go.

Which, apparently, was out on the river. Aster frowned. “Is it safe?”

“They’ve set up an entire festival out there,” Jack said, and pointed out at the crowds of humanity slipping and sliding over the frozen river. “I’m here. No, Bunny, there’s going to be an immediate spring thaw that’ll melt everything in seconds. Come _on_!”

“Well, you never know.” He edged out onto the ice. It wasn’t as slick as he’d expected it to be. There was traction. But strewth, his feet were getting cold!

Jack seemed to realize what the problem was right away. “Right,” he muttered. “Ice is cold. Just a…” he dug into his sweater pocket. “Here,” he said, and held out the oddest socks Aster had ever seen. “I figured… long story. Anyways, I can’t make socks yet. They should fit?”

“Where’s the heels?” Aster moved back over to the bank to put the socks on. There _weren’t_ any heels, that was the thing. Just a toe, and then a long tube that actually covered most of Aster’s foot, stopping halfway up. Considering he walked digitigrade instead of plantigrade, halfway up worked.

“I forgot them,” Jack admitted. “I was going to give them to North for Christmas, as a joke? You know, the old joke everyone has of ‘I’m going to get you socks for Christmas’ and… it’s stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Aster said. For North? That explained why one was red and the other green. “They’re nice and warm.”

“Right. Come on!” Jack grabbed Aster by the upper arm, and pulled until he headed back out onto the ice.

“Right, right, right…” Aster stumbled along, staying upright mostly through force of will and Jack’s hold on his arm. “I don’t like this,” he muttered.

“I won’t let anything happen,” Jack said. “Now, c’mon, you’re going to enjoy this part. Promise!”

Aster raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment. They passed by several tents, selling food or drink by the scents, with crowds of people around them. The two spirits made a big detour, as a simple matter of course. It wasn’t like they lacked the room.

On the other side of the tents were the ice sculptures.

“There’s contests,” Jack said, sounding gleeful. The angle wasn’t right for Aster to see his expression. “People’ve worked on these for _weeks_ now!”

“Did’ja help keep the temperature down?” Aster peered at the closest sculpture. It was of a little fantasy castle, he realized. There were even little flags, carved so cleverly that they were thin enough to see through, and they hadn’t broken.

Jack shook his head, and dropped down onto the ice. Frost spread from where his feet contacted the ice, and it crawled up the side of the castle, until it looked like the little sculpture was covered in miniature vines of ivy. “No,” Jack said. He moved back from the sculpture a few steps. “Just luck, this year. Other years they make the sculptures in refrigerated trucks and stuff.”

"Huh." Aster looked down the long line of sculptures, and smiled. "Did'ja bring me 'cause of the art?"

"Maybe. You should see some of the stuff these people do with _snow_." Jack caught Aster's hand, but didn't lace their fingers together. It would've been difficult, because of the different number of fingers, but... their palms were pressed together and Aster was holding Jack's hand. He couldn't be blamed for having a slight difficulty in breathing.

They browsed through the carvings. There were several fantastical carriages, one looking a dead ringer for Disney's Cinderella's, according to Jack, and another that - color and material aside - Aster recognized as belonging to King George the Third. Another carriage had two carved horses prancing along in harness.

There were angels, and musclemen, and charging boar. There was a miniature sphinx, only ten feet high. Swans swam across the ice, and a dragon breathed fire on a tiny figure of a knight.

Jack made certain to keep a bit of distance between himself and the sculptures, because of the frost following his footsteps no doubt. Aster didn't figure the artists would mind a bit of frost on their _ice_ sculptures - surely they'd expect it? - but didn't comment.

Aster admired the detail that had gone into the carvings, even the simple one of a snowman. The artists' names were all on little signs in front of their work, along with a title, if there was one, and little blurbs about the artist's work.

"Here," Jack said, and pointed at one carving.

It was fairly simple. The sign said it was called 'Two Turtledoves' and had been made by 'anonymous'. The sculpture's beauty, though, was in that it had been made perfectly. There wasn't a single feather out of place; nowhere the chisel might have slipped and created a barely noticeable knick. It wasn't very large, perhaps the size of a collie dog curled up for a nap, so it had been put on a stand of several slabs of ice, bringing it up high enough there wasn't a risk of it being knocked into.

"The artist didn't give a name?" Aster asked, after a moment.

"Sure. Means it's not in the running. Besides, I kinda cheat." Jack shrugged, and was grinning when Aster looked back at him.

"Cheat?" he asked, because his brain was still trying to figure out how Jack had managed to submit a carving to the contest - or why he would want to.

"Well, yeah. Here." Jack held up one hand, and frowned. Slowly, a bit of fog formed over his palm, before condensing and shaping into a miniature copy of the two turtledoves. It looked exactly the same, apart from size. "See? I mean, I can do this stuff with chisels and all, but... why? Not like I'll get any prizes."

He gave Aster the small version of the sculpture. Surprisingly, it wasn't cold.

Jack grinned at Aster's expression. "That one's made out of 'never-melt-ice'," he said, making air quotes with his free hand. "Won't freeze, won't melt, won't cause condensation when exposed to warm air. Do you like it?"

"She's a beaut," Aster said, and looked down at himself. "But how'm I going to carry it?"

"Don't worry. It won't break, either." Jack tugged on his arm, and pointed further down the 'lane'. "C'mon, I did a couple others I think you'll like, and then there's the snow sculptures..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... two turtle doves..._


	3. Third Day of Christmas

_On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aster sauntered towards the odd clucking sound, and the desperate cries of "No!" and "Get back in the cage!" and "You're lucky I'm vegetarian, bird!"

Not the usual things one heard about his Warren, though Jack was a frequent visitor. Especially of late. Not that he was complaining, oh no. Very much not that.

"Wot's going on?" he asked, smirking even before he rounded the cluster of bushes and half-buried egg golem. Then he had to stop and stare, because Jack was trying to herd chickens.

 _Badly_.

Jack shot him an aggrieved look over one shoulder, tripped, and nearly flattened one of the hens. Thankfully, the bird scuttled out of the way with a distressed squawk. The other two answered with their own squawks, and ran around in panicked circles.

"Remind me to never do other spirits favors," Jack grumbled, and pushed himself up onto all fours. "Aw, c'mon... no!"

"No?" Aster waved one of the chickens back towards three small crates. The bird went halfway, and then began pecking at the ground. "What - oh."

The chickens, as frightened birds were wont to do, had voided its bowels on the grass. Jack had landed in the resulting mess, which was now smeared all over the front of his sweater.

"Ah, it'll wash off, Frostbite, don't worry."

"And my pants?" Jack asked, and then looked at his hands. "Ew... Think I can borrow your bath?"

"Bath, laundry, and a house robe until your things are fit to wear again," Aster agreed. Then his brain caught up to his mouth. Jack. Naked. In _his_ bathtub, which was just a copper tub that was filled with water heated over the oven. It wasn't like he had a bathroom; when he took an infrequent bath, he did so in the kitchen, where it'd be easy to clean up any spills.

Jack was going to be naked and bathing _in his kitchen_.

Aster shivered, and cleared his throat. "So, uh, why does a favor end with me having three chickens in my Warren?" he asked. "Decorating the grass with..." He frowned at the splotches of white and black.

"Ugh. French... house brownie? Old lady he was helping passed away. He asked if I'd take the hens, because he didn't want them to, you know, get eaten... apparently the old woman raised them from the egg or something. He was very sentimental, and my French is Quebec French, not, y'know... France French." Jack shrugged. "They've got a nasty accent, but they get all affronted when you mention it."

More like Jack's Quebecers had the accent, but Aster didn't mention it. Not that Jack _believed_ that claptrap - to him, Real English was what was spoken in England, Real French came from France, German from Germany, so on and so forth - but he did like mocking it. The time he'd told Puck that the spirit spoke good English for a non-American would forever go down in infamy, Aster was sure.

"So..." Aster frowned at the hens, and then summoned a couple of his smaller golems to help keep them contained.

"So, I was hoping I could keep them here until I found someone who wanted a couple of crazy birds?" Jack made another face at his hands, and then wiped them off on his already filthy sweater.

"Keep them here." Aster rolled his eyes. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up. Who do you know will take in a couple birds without eating them when their egg laying days are over?"

"That's the question, I guess..."

Jack stayed outside while Aster readied the bath. Despite their many years of acquaintance, Jack had never actually taken a bath at Aster's home. Usually, if Jack got dirty, it was above-ground, where it was easier to just go to his lake - or any body of water - and scrub off there. Or hot springs. Aster had enjoyed the hot springs for... several reasons.

He added enough kettles of hot water to the tub to bring the temperature to just a bit over lukewarm, Jack's preferred temperature, and stepped back outside. A few minutes later, Jack's begrimed clothing was dropped outside the door.

"Have I said thanks yet?" Jack asked through the closed door.

Aster hummed, and collected the clothes... carefully. "She's apples, mate. If a bloke won't wash his cobber's clothes, what good is he?"

"I swear, you talk like that on purpose," he heard Jack mutter.

And then there was a faint splash, an equally faint hiss, and the vague sounds of water sloshing back and forth as a slender body lowered down into it...

Aster flattened his ears against his head, and walked towards his rudimentary laundry area as quickly as possible.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the end, Aster agreed to keep the hens. He wasn't sure why - he thought his reasoning had more to do with the way Jack had been utterly shirtless while they talked about it - but they'd eat the infrequent insects that got into the Warren and provide him with eggs to eat.

And they were also responsible for him getting to watch Jack parade around shirtless while his sweater dried. That was worth keeping a couple flea-bitten birds around for a few years.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... three French hens..._


	4. Fourth Day of Christmas

_On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

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"Bunny!" North turned around, and beamed at him. "What are you doing here? Thought you would want to stay away from party."

Aster frowned, and inclined his head. "Normally. You keep inviting a buncha bloody pranksters, don't you? Jack promised me a charm t' keep their spells off my back."

North's beaming smile got smaller, but no less pleased. "Jack, hm? Yes, you have been spending a lot of time with Jack lately."

"Jack's my friend! Why shouldn't I spend time with him?" He tensed as North came nearer, and relaxed when the old bandit only slung one arm over his shoulders and tugged.

"The yeti can handle preparations on their own. And I am your friend, but you do not spend as much time with me."

Because it was _different_. Sure, he was friends with North; good friends, even. If he had a serious problem, even if it was Christmas Eve itself, he _knew_ North would drop everything to help him out. But North was loud, and expressive, and overwhelming. Aster enjoyed spending time with him, but... small doses. For his sanity.

"You're my mate, but he's my cobber," he explained. North looked confused. Right, English was his second... third... fourth language. "You're my friend, Jack's my _best_ friend."

"How quickly you changed your mind!" North all but shoved him onto the lift, and set it for the top floor. His private quarters? Why the hell...? "Only seven years ago you were saying Jack is bane of existence, now you cannot live without him. Pick a seat, I will get schnapps."

Schnapps? "I don't wanna drink, North!"

"Then I will get you tea, but I want schnapps. Have new peach to try."

 _Peach_ schnapps? "None of that rooibos nonsense," he said, moving from the small entryway and into the large sitting room. Someone with a sense of style and taste had decorated, which meant North must've been banned from making any decisions.

There was a great deal of dark leather, and darker wood. There were several Persian carpets, with designs picked out in red, black, and gold, over the floor, and several more tapestries of no particular style on the walls, with geometric designs done in green, black, and gold. The lighting was all soft stuff, easy on the eyes, provided by what looked like oil lamps but, by the lack of flickering, were something else. Electric, maybe, or magic.

He settled down on the smaller of the two couches, and watched the open doorway to the kitchen. North didn't make him wait too long, only as long as it took for a mug's worth of water to boil in the kettle. He walked into the sitting room, just a bit more carefully than he normally did. He had a bottle and small shot glass in one hand, and a steeping mug of tea in the other.

"Orange something or other," North said, and set the mug down on the coffee table. "Why would I put you through rooibos tea? I like you, I want to keep friendship."

And that was part of why he was still friends with North. "Thanks," he said dryly. "Why'd you drag me up here?"

North gestured with the empty shot glass, and then filled it. The pungent aroma of peach schnapps tainted the air. Aster wrinkled his nose a touch, and picked up his mug of tea. The scent of orange helped repeal the peach.

"I wanted to talk to you," North said. He swirled the liquid in the shot glass, and then tossed it back. He swallowed, hummed, and nodded. "Is very good. Sure you don't want any?"

"I'm sure, I'm sure." He waved his mug, carefully, in negation. "Talk about what?"

North raised his eyebrows. "Jack, of course."

Aster put his mug down. "What about him?"

North filled his glass again, and tossed the liquor back. "I have known you for centuries. You have only been spending time with Jack for seven years. Yet already he is your _best_ friend? Forgive me, but..." He spread his hands. "I have seen how you look at him."

"How I...?" he asked, voice quiet with horror.

"With longing." North sat back, and crossed his ankles. "I am here if you wish to talk. If not... Company while drinking is good. Drinking alone makes you a lush."

He half-laughed at that, no doubt North's intent, and picked up his mug again. "I... reckon it can't hurt, I suppose. But you're wrong about one thing," he added, pointing a finger at North without letting go of his mug.

"Oh?" North poured a third shot of schnapps. "What?"

"How long I've known Jack. Met him back in the early 1700's," he said, and grinned at the old man's obvious shock. "We, eh, we were friends up until '68..."

"This would be 1968," North said dryly. "Yes?"

"Yeah." He took a sip of his tea, and sighed. "At first it was just... He was a new spirit and hadn't a clue, y'know?"

North nodded. Well, of course he'd know; he'd mentored a few spirits over the years, though none recently. Most new spirits resented the mentorship, for whatever reason; North's good relationship with his own mentor, Ombric, had been the exception to the rule. Yet, on the mentor's side of things, there was usually a great deal of fondness, which was probably the only reason why they put up with the little accidents and power plays their protégés got into.

Much like parents and their moody teenagers, now that Aster thought about it.

Aster hadn't ever mentored another spirit before. "It wasn't an official thing. I'd just show up, he'd ask questions, I'd answer, then he'd usually drag me off to see something shiny. Only then I'd show up more than I had to, and he'd ask about more than just spirit stuff, and one thing led to another..."

"You became friends," North finished. "Good friends, I assume."

"The best." Aster stared into his mug. "And... Y'know I find all you hairless apes kinda ugly."

North snorted, and pointed at him with his shot glass. "Is better for my ego when you don't remind me, but yes. Understandable, thinking about it. But?"

"Jack's beautiful," he whispered, ears flattening against his head and shoulders hunching.

"Ah. Yes. Well, I should hope you think so, with how you look at him." North apparently ignored the glare Aster leveled at him. "So, you became friends with Jack, and then began desiring more?"

He sighed, and sipped at his tea. "You make it sound so simple. It... First time I ever cared about someone like that after... After Hoata? Bloody hell. I bolloxed it up."

And oh, how had he. He'd immediately drawn away from Jack, brushing the other male off, getting drunk off his arse a few times...

He'd always thought that, after Hoata, there'd be no one else for him. Humans... weren't an option. The mortals were too short-lived to get to know, and the spirits tended to look down on him for having fur. Besides all that, humans were alright folk, almost Pookan in mentality, but they were bloody ugly! Even the hairier ones were practically naked, they had flat faces that were all angles, with jutting noses and tiny eyes shadowed by their enormous eyebrows. Their hands were worse, in a way; too many long, spindly fingers - how the hell any of them held onto anything with _five_ fingers, he didn't know - and knobby elbows and knees, and...

Ugh. Just ugh.

But then Jack had grown on him, and suddenly everything that made a human ugly, made Jack beautiful. His bare skin was pristine, a perfect canvas for Aster to make into a painting of his devotion. His flat face, pointy chin, jutting nose, they somehow shifted to become _cute_ , of all things. His eyebrows became expressive, his eyes haunting, his lips...

Aster had known he was sunk when he started thinking up ways to kiss Jack on those lips. Pooka hadn't kissed, as such, but humans did, and he'd figured the effort was worth it...

He sighed, and drank more tea.

"Leading to Easter '68?" North asked. It took Aster a moment to collect his thoughts from the small walkabout they'd gone on, and he nodded.

"We had an argument. _Things_ were said. There was snow and hurt feelings all around," he said, shying away from the memories. Jack had said some harsh things, Aster had said harsher, and then half the egg hunts in North America had been called off for inclement weather.

And after that, well... He'd stayed away from Jack for the next handful of decades, unsure of just _what_ he felt. That Jack was beautiful - unfortunately, yes. Or fortunately. Or... he _still_ didn't know about that. Of course, by the time Manny chose Jack as the newest Guardian, he'd come to terms that being attracted to Jack wasn't a betrayal of Hoata's memory or anything like that, but that was about all he'd come to terms with.

Jack probably could've told the other Guardians all about how Aster got cranky when unsettled, and mean when cranky, but they already knew, for the most part.

"Well," North said. He set the bottle of peach schnapps down, and capped it. "Last one."

Aster grunted in reply.

"What do you intend to do about it? I must say, longing looks are getting obvious. There will be party of tricksters and matchmakers, and you intend to be here with Jack." North tilted his chin down, the better to peer at Aster from under his eyebrows.

Aster snorted. "What _can_ I do? I'm not risking my friendship with Jack a second time, and that's more important to me than anything else." He swallowed, and stared into his mostly empty mug. "The trinket Jack's bringing will keep me from getting pranked. I'll just deal with it."

"Or," North said, drawing the word out. "You could make move."

He spluttered, the last swallow of tea going up his nose in his shock. "I could what?" he asked, once he could breathe again. He groped for a handkerchief, and North helpfully passed one over.

North waited for him to blow his nose, and then repeated the insanity. "You could make move. On Jack. Tonight, even."

Aster sniffed, grimaced, and glared. "Are you out of your red-and-green _mind_?"

"Not last I noticed," North said dryly. "Hear my reasoning before you declare me быть удостоверенным, hm?"

Oh, North was certifiable, alright, but he'd earned the right to a fair hearing. Aster gestured for him to continue.

"You and Jack are very friendly," North pointed out. He paused, and then added, " _Very_ friendly indeed. Clearly, the argument has been forgiven, and considered water under the bridge, no? And I do not think Jack would be so quick to forgive if he did not care for you."

Well, that was true enough. Aster had been witness to a few of Jack's longer running grudges; if he hadn't been powerful enough to drive the other spirits away, he'd certainly known how to make them miserable. In retrospect, Aster should have taught Jack to fight properly, instead of holding off in worry that he'd use the lessons to go on the attack. Of course, by the time he knew Jack well enough to know that the winter spirit would never, ever bully others, he'd been a little distracted by denying the fact that he was falling in love.

"You might have a point," he said slowly. "But that doesn't mean Jack would be open to the idea of -"

"I am not suggesting you kiss him without warning, Bunny!" North rolled his eyes. "Take him aside. Tell him you care for him. Ask permission to court. You are the elder, is your responsibility to take lead in these matters. If he says yes, you go from there."

"And if he says no, my friendship with him is ruined," Aster snapped.

"I doubt that!" North leaned forward, gesturing madly. Aster suppressed the urge to grab North's wrists and force him still. "You overcame your fight, did you not? A rejection would not be end of the world, Bunny, and I do not see any reason for you to expect there to be a rejection! At the very least, if you do not try, you will never know!"

"It's not your heart on the line, North! And not your friendship with Jack, either!"

North surged up onto his feet, cheeks turning bright red. "Are you the Guardian of Hope or not? Is that not looking at all possibilities and hoping that the best is what happens? Where is your hope, Bunny?"

His mouth worked, but he didn't make a sound. Instead, Aster looked away, shrinking in on himself. North was right. By his very _core_ he should have been hoping for Jack to return his feelings, not pessimistically expecting an end to a friendship he valued... so very much.

"It's hard," he finally said. "It's hard, and it's frightening. And I don't know..."

North seemed to deflate a touch, his cheeks returning to their normal color. "Then will you trust that I do?" he asked. He reached across the coffee table and clapped his hand onto Aster's shoulder. "Jack cares for you, Bunny. Should he reject you, he would do so kindly, and with care for your heart... but in my opinion, I do not think you need to worry about rejection. So talk with him, yes?"

Aster looked down at his hands. North had made good points, all of them. Perhaps -

Someone knocked on the door to North's quarters. The toymaker's expression was hard to read, though frustration made up a large part of it.

"Who could be...?" He moved towards the entryway. Aster got up and followed.

North opened the door, scowling, though the expression immediately fell away when he saw who was on the other side of the door.

The young winter spirit had clearly dressed up for the party... his version of dressing up, anyways. The fake ear points, green paint and all, had returned. As had another crown of tinsel, leaves, ice, and what might've been a hat under the mess. He had a new ugly sweater, this one covered in prancing reindeer, and had replaced his dead mistletoe bush that had been tied to the crook of his staff with a new, live one.

"Crikey, Jack," Aster said, unable to stop himself. "Are you trying to get your own hug-yourself-all-day jacket?"

Jack looked over at him, and beamed. "I've got a contest with the other tricksters," he said. "Phil told me North dragged you up here, and the other guests are showing up?" He looked back at North. "I think Phil's going to yank himself a bald spot if you don't play host."

"Yes, yes. Come, Bunny, time for party." North turned and waggled his eyebrows at Aster, not so subtly looking down at Jack.

"Oh, yeah!" Jack reached down the front of his sweater, and pulled out a bag on a long cord that'd been looped around his neck. "Got you this!"

Aster took the bag, and opened it up. There was a pin, that'd fit on his bandolier fine enough. Someone with a fine eye for detail must have made it; the four blackbirds together were no bigger than his thumb, but he could nearly make out every feather. He fumbled a little getting it onto the leather strap, and then Jack was pushing his hands away and taking over.

"There you go," he said, and grinned. "Oh, hey, neat fact I found out. Did you know that another term for blackbird used to be colly bird? A lot of old English songs talking about 'calling birds' might actually be talking about colly, or blackbirds, like Ravens."

"Huh," Aster said, and brushed his fingers over the pin. He could feel, faintly, a tingle of magic against the pads. "Learn something new every day."

"Four blackbirds," North murmured, looking closely at the pin. "Four colly..."

North started laughing, at that, and refused to stop even when Aster threatened to punch him.

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_... four calling birds..._


	5. Fifth Day of Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Implied Dubious Content - though I promise, everyone involved WAS able to consent, they just figured the other one was slightly compromised by doctored fruit punch.

_On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

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This was a terrible idea.

Aster nibbled the side of Jack's neck, and smiled when the smaller male groaned and trembled against him. Smiled, and died a little inside, because bloody hell Jack was drunk. Tipsy, at least. Enough that he was willing to do things with _his friend_ that he wouldn't do when completely sober. And Aster - Aster had drunk a bit of the punch, but not enough to kill his good sense, and he _knew_ better, he _did_...

He'd just drunk enough not to care.

"Bunny," Jack said, and grabbed hold of the fur along the back of Aster's head. "Bunny, you - c'mon, Cottontail, let's not - we're in full view of everyone, let's - c'mon."

Good point. If they stayed in the doorway, someone would notice. And probably (sensibly) break them up.

Aster nodded, and pulled away, not that he could go too far. Jack still had hold of his fur. "C'mon," he said, and then had to just stop. Because Jack, oh, Jack looked like he'd been _kissed_ and then some, hair mussed, his blue eyes dazed and dreamy, his lips swollen and tinted lilac. The side of his neck was just starting to bruise, and the hem of his sweater had been hiked up, only to drop back down to the waistband of his pants, so now his clothes looked delightfully ruffled.

They should stop. Aster should do the - the adult thing, the right thing, the _good friend_ thing and step back. Give Jack space, stop taking advantage of his friend's intoxicated state.

Instead, he took Jack's elbow and tugged, leading him into the hallway and towards the guest quarters.

Jack chortled to himself, tripped once, and fell against Aster. "Hey," he said, and pulled free of Aster's grip. "What's your hurry, Bunny?"

Aster shook his head. "No hurry," he said aloud, reminding himself. It'd be for the best, it really would, if someone showed up and interrupted. Because really, Jack was just fuddled enough not to realize all the reasons they shouldn't go any further than this, and Aster _could_ think of all the reasons, but couldn't bring himself to _care_.

Well, he cared, of course he cared, but at the same point he didn't care that he cared. And if that made no sense, well... He was dragging Jack to one of the guest bedrooms, mentally cataloguing all the ways this was wrong, and going through with it anyways.

He pressed Jack up against the bedroom door, and lavished attention on the younger spirit's lips. Jack gasped and moaned, and arched up against him with a fervour matched only in how their lips moved against each other.

"Bunny," Jack murmured, when they pulled apart long enough to gasp for breath. "I want..."

"Yeah?" he asked.

Jack grinned, and twisted the door handle. Aster honked when the door swung inwards, and they nearly tumbled to the floor. Jack twisted and remained upright, no doubt entirely due to having expected just that, and looked surprisingly graceful for how drunk he had to be. Aster landed on all fours, and glowered up the short distance to Jack's eyes.

Crikey, but the frost spirit was such a tiny bloke. Tall enough, especially when standing on his toes the way he seemed to enjoy, but even with Aster on all fours they were practically eye level. And of course Jack was such a skinny little shite, though much better than when they'd first met...

Jack shut the bedroom door.

"I want you," Jack said, enunciating carefully. Aster paid rather more attention to the way Jack was forming his vowels, the way his lips curved and the tip of his tongue flicked in and out of view, than he probably should have. "I want you, Bunny. In bed. Both of us naked. I want that, and you. Is - is that okay with you? Because I'll go."

Wait, what?

"Don't," Aster said. He reached for Jack; after a quick moment to flip the lock, Jack came to him. Eagerly, even. "Don't go. I want..."

He wanted this to not involve alcohol is what he wanted, but he was a shitty friend. He was going to take what he could get, and regret it.

He pressed kisses to Jack's forehead, the tip of his nose, his lips. He licked Jack's lips, then past them, tasted the inside of Jack's mouth and shivered when the winter spirit returned the favour. Jack tasted like the cold bite of mint, of cold air and snow, a bit like hot chocolate, all of it tainted by the overly sweet, fruity punch.

Aster moved his attention down, to Jack's neck. Jack groaned and tilted his head to the side, even as his fingers began stroking through Aster's fur, sending delicious shocks of sensation up and down his arms, across his shoulders and cascading lightning down his spine.

"Bunny," Jack said, barely louder than an exhale.

Aster hummed, and bit down on Jack's neck, right up under the ear, more to hold than to mark. Though there'd be a bit of that, too.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he said, when he released Jack.

"I can get naked in under a minute," Jack promised. "You just have to stop doing that thing to my neck."

Fair enough, except he really didn't want to stop nibbling on that neck. Hard to imagine ever thinking Jack's neck was ugly; bare of fur, so pale the only color came from the blue-tinted veins showing through the skin. Too long compared to a Pooka's neck, but too stiff at the same time. As for Jack's body... Not very muscular, but then, Jack wasn't. He was a bundle of sticks tied together with string, and given the bare minimum of padding.

Yet now, that too long, too stiff neck was just the right length, and if Jack couldn't turn and look behind himself without actually _turning_ all the way around, so what? All that bare skin - the better to lick and nibble, and see the marks that resulted. Painting Jack, in a way, in a medium thus far limited to Aster, and no one else. Jack had gone from gangly to lithe, scrawny to a perfect armful, undersized to a proper fit against the Pooka. He tucked quite nicely under Aster's chin with barely any fussing at all.

Aster looked away from Jack, and unbuckled his bandolier, his bracers. Carefully unwrapped the linen strips around his feet, and sat down the moment he'd finished with that. He reached down and rubbed his foot, and winced when that didn't exactly help.

"Do they hurt?" Jack asked. He dropped the ugly sweater on the floor.

Aster looked up, and his mouth went dry. Jack clothed, with his neck just starting to bruise and his lips swollen from kissing, that was beautiful. Jack, wearing only his - unbuttoned - pants, that was stunning.

Stunning enough that he almost forgot to answer the question. "Only when I stand. It's alright Jack, I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be used to constant pain," Jack said, and finished pulling off his pants.

Apparently Jack considered underwear something that happened to _other people_.

Aster opened his mouth, failed to think of anything to say, and simply stared. Well. Clearly, he either should have looked up what human males looked like when naked (and never mind that pre-Jack he'd rather have attempted a polite conversation with Pitch - humans were so... _dangly_ ) or he should have figured out a way to see Jack naked before this.

He also wasn't about to tell Jack that this was his first time seeing a human male naked. One, because it wasn't quite true; he'd seen plenty of humans naked, male and female both, and been very careful to keep his gaze level with the neck or higher - preferably higher. And two, because Jack would laugh, mock him a bit, laugh some more, and it would derail things quite spectacularly.

Jack's bits dangled, and he nearly cringed, except it wasn't as off putting as he'd have expected. The way the other male's cock was starting to flush with blood and stand up probably had something to do with it. His own cock stirred in response, and began to peak out of his sheathe.

"Huh," Jack said, looking down at Aster's groin. "So that's where it is."

"So that's - what?" Aster looked down as well, and then up at Jack. "What?"

"Never seen you pull it out before, never saw any bump," Jack pointed out. He started walking towards the bed. "And you're an _alien_."

That was certainly a point. Jack had forced him into seeing movies before their split, and then again after, catching him up on everything he'd missed. "Yeah, not a facehugger," he said, referencing one of the more disturbing films he'd been forced to see.

"You're amazing." Jack was close enough to touch now, but before Aster could reach for him, Jack wrapped his arms around Aster's neck and sat down. On Aster's lap. "Really, you are. I adore you."

How was he supposed to respond to that?

Jack moved before he could, again. He pressed his lips to Aster's, the kiss a sweet press of lips, of fingers stroking along the curve of Aster's shoulder, of Jack's bare skin pressing up against Aster's fur in a line from groin to chest and back again.

And then Jack shifted against him, and sweet became burning. Aster _needed_ , his blood boiled, and he twisted and pinned Jack down onto the bed, licked and bit at Jack's mouth even as he ground down against Jack, hips against hips and oh gods above and below, cock to cock.

Jack shouted into Aster's mouth, and thrust upwards. He grabbed handfuls of fur and pulled, and the pain wasn't pain, but a sharp pleasure. It went straight to Aster's groin, and he bellowed, stars flashing before his eyes and muscles going limp.

Jack didn't seem to mind being trapped, though after a minute he started wiggling free of Aster's weight. Aster grunted, and tried to help, but his arms didn't want to cooperate.

"No, it's okay, Cottontail," Jack said, and giggled. "Whoa. Okay, not what I planned, but wow. Did the earth move?"

"No," Aster mumbled, and nuzzled into Jack's shoulder. "That was an orgasm." Hopefully by the comment, Jack had orgasmed too. Aster hadn't been able to pay attention.

"You're adorable," Jack said, and then heaved. Aster was rolled over onto his back. He lifted his head, blinking. "Yes," Jack added, and stroked a hand over Aster's forehead. "I am that strong. C'mon, Cottontail, nice, big bed... let's use it properly, huh?"

Aster blinked, and began to gather his scattered thoughts. "You mean we didn't?"

"Fluffy, your head is at the _foot_ of the bed, that's kinda wrong, yeah." Jack sounded like he was smiling. He was smiling, when Aster turned his head to look.

"Yeah," he said, and sat up. The fur about his groin was a mess, clumped together and sticky with semen. "I should wash."

"No," Jack said, and pushed at Aster's shoulder. "You should sleep. I'll just mess up your fur more later," he promised.

Aster smirked, and crawled, even more awkwardly than Jack, on hands and knees to the top of the bed. "I'm going to hold you to that," he said, and laid down atop the blankets. Jack smirked at him, and flopped down.

"You want that in writing or blood?" he asked, and then laughed when Aster reached for him.

The second time went slow, as slow as the first had been fast. Jack whined and licked at Aster's lips, whimpered and tilted his head back so Aster could nibble and lick at that long neck. Blood surged through Aster's veins and pooled in his cock, and each shift of his hips against Jack, Jack's hips against him, made sparks of pure sensation run through his nervous system.

Jack shuddered against him, and mewled. Aster continued to roll his hips twice, three times more, and then sighed. They were both a mess, now, but it felt good to lie with Jack, semen going tacky on their stomachs.

"Sleep," Jack murmured, and wrapped a hand around the back of Aster's head.

It was a good suggestion. Aster hummed, and pressed his muzzle to Jack's hair, hitched one leg up over Jack's thighs. He felt loose, relaxed, and Jack was curled up in his arms, snuffling at his chest.

Sleep was a slow, comfortable drift.

For once, he didn't have any dreams.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He woke up with empty arms and a somewhat sour taste in his mouth.

Jack was gone.

Aster sat up and looked around, just to be sure, but Jack had left. The door was unlocked again, he noticed absently, and winced. His fur had dried in clumps, from navel to the tops of his thighs, and was starting to itch. The blankets were rumpled where Jack had been, and someone - Jack, Aster presumed - had put out a cup of water on one of the end tables. There was a box, too, and a piece of paper propped up between the cup and box.

He reached for the paper, and looked it over. Jack had covered it in his inarticulate scrawl. Anyone trying to analyze Jack's handwriting - and, in fact, the four of them had each taken it in turn to try, just for kicks, like they did to each other as well - would probably deduce derangement, psychosis, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.

Wrong theories, of course, but it was a hoot to use the traditional analysis methods and come up with "North - serial killer waiting to start; Tooth - obsessive compulsive disorder; Sandy - professor, possible alcoholic; Aster - developmentally challenged".

Though, with how twitchy Jack was, it was entirely possible he had ADHD in some form or other.

The note was a short one, and with a bit of puzzling it out, Aster was able to read it. Jack apologized - for leaving? For last night? Last night was _Aster's_ fault - and said the box was for him.

A present. Aster dropped the note to the bedspread, and rubbed his hands over his face. He suddenly had a hysterical urge to laugh, and fought it down. They'd had sex, or at least managed to get each other off, and then Jack left before Aster woke up and left him a prezzie and there was something horrifically _funny_ about that.

He clenched his teeth on the building giggles, and picked up the box. It was a wide, thin box, and something rattled inside.

It hadn't even been wrapped.

Aster lifted off the lid, and froze for several seconds. Then he set the lid aside and lifted out one of the gold-coloured circles.

It looked, for all the world, like a neck-guard. It had been part of a Pookan soldier's uniform, once; matte gray, regardless of rank, usually blank. Paired with the wrist guards, the arm bands, all the same. The other four gold-coloured circles in the box looked the way he remembered.

Except these weren't the uniform bands, these were the sort of thing a Pooka would give to someone they were courting. Seriously courting. Gold, which had held the same place in Pookan romance as red did among humans, etched with the personal marks of the one doing the courting.

The gold band in Aster's hands, which was sized perfectly for his neck, he could tell just by looking, the same way he could tell the other bands were sized for his wrists and biceps, they were all covered in etchings of frost and snowflakes.

He didn't know what to think.

So he tried them on. Neck. Both biceps. Both wrists. Got up, and walked over to the mirror.

They fit perfectly. They looked good.

He still didn't know what to think.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... five golden rings..._


	6. Sixth Day of Christmas

_On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It'd been two days since Aster had last seen Jack. Well, technically he'd seen Jack yesterday morning, so early it'd still been the night before. Just-after-midnight was technically the next day, wasn't it? Not that it mattered, in the grand scheme of things. He wasn't likely to see Jack again for a month, at least, and there'd be a distance between them. He knew it.

Aster put his pencil down, and propped his head up in his hands. He'd drawn - predictably enough - Jack. Sketches, mainly. One big sketch of Jack, elbows up, looking like the cocky shit he liked to portray. Had his staff, looked to be leaning on it. His hood was down, his lips were curved in a smirk, and his eyes glittered with delightful secrets, or at least that was what Aster had aimed for.

The large sketch was surrounded with smaller ones; Jack lounging, Jack sitting on something, hood up, hood down, a few sketches just of Jack's eyes and nose as he smiled, frowned, looked confused... Aster had even done a couple hand and feet studies. He had something of a weakness for Jack's hands and feet, though he still wasn't entirely sure why.

Aster sighed, and pushed the sketchbook away with one elbow. He needed... Well, what he really needed to do was to get over this... crush... on Jack. It had almost ruined their friendship once, and after the party, may have done so for good. His desire had overridden his good sense, and he'd taken advantage, and...

Well. He _knew_ better.

And felt a little sick to his stomach every time he thought about how he'd dragged Jack to bed. Since he was thinking about it constantly, he hadn't really slept, and definitely hadn't eaten, since he'd woken up after... after.

Aster shifted, so he was leaning back in his chair instead of forward over the table. He hadn't really been doing much. Brooding, mostly. Weeding, when he got restless and needed to move. Sketching, Jack, mostly, when he needed to turn off his brain. Except that always led back to the brooding.

He had to... not get over it, because there wasn't any _getting over_ what he'd done, but he had to set it aside. Soon. Easter Prep would start soon, just after the New Years, which got closer every day. He'd have to get the egg plantings out, work on new chocolate recipes, new patterns for the eggs. He'd been neglecting the new patterns, and the chocolate, in favour of spending as much time as he could with Jack. It wasn't a bad thing, he reminded himself, and then caught sight of the sketches.

And cringed.

"Hello the house! Hello cranky rabbits everywhere!"

Wha-huh?

Aster looked up from the sketch, and blinked. And blinked again, when the same voice - _Jack's_ voice - continued to call out, insulting Aster's eating habits, his grooming, how he lived in a sty...

"Oy!" He moved over to the window, and leaned out. "I don't live in a sty!"

Jack grinned at him, and leaned sideways on his staff. "You forget I've seen the inside of your house, Bigfoot."

Aster gapped wordlessly at him, for a moment, before pulling back from the window and heading for the door. "I clean," he protested, the moment he had the door open.

Jack laughed at him. "Sure, Fluffy, whatever you say. I mean, the hairballs could make three of you, there's stone-age civilizations in your larder, and the things under the couches are plotting a revolt... but you clean. Mmhm, yup."

Aster huffed, and moved towards Jack. "You're making shite up."

"How's the river in Egypt, Bunny? Warm enough for you?"

The Nile - de-nile. Aster flipped Jack off, and the winter spirit doubled over laughing.

Good. Good. At least, despite everything else, Jack still had his joy. Aster hadn't messed with that.

And he looked good. Back to his hooded sweatshirt, gone with the deranged crown and mistletoe bush. A broad smile.

Jack calmed down, and wiped tears from his eyes with one hand. "Y'know, Cottontail, people think you're some tight-laced prude that'd explode at _hearing_ a cuss-word. Where'd they get that idea from?" he asked, and smirked.

"You don't talk with strangers how you talk with friends," Aster pointed out. "What, ah, I mean, Jack..."

"Okay, stop." Jack left his staff where it was, and moved forwards. He wrapped his arms around Aster's waist before the Pooka could react, and then leaned into Aster's chest. "Stop right there, you idiot. The party was... It wasn't bad. If I was going to be stupid, I'm glad it was with you. And if you were going to be stupid..." Jack had a glint in his eye, one that Aster knew meant 'I _know_ you've been brooding over this and I think you're stupid', "Well, I'm glad you were stupid with me. There's no one I trust more than you."

The breath caught in his throat. "Jack..."

"I mean it." Jack ducked his head, and then pulled back to sneeze. "Why do you have so much _fur_ , it got up my _nose_ , oh my _god_..."

Aster chuckled, and rested his hands on his friend's shoulders. "Because I'm a bunny," he suggested.

"The biggest, baddest Bunny of them all," Jack agreed. "But no, Bunny, I'm serious. If you keep feeling bad about this, I'm going to have to kick your fluffy tail from Uluru to Mount Rushmore and back again."

He hesitated, but... "At least tell me it wasn't your first go-round?" If he'd stolen that...

Jack glared up at him, and pinched his back. "See above, there's no one I trust more than you."

Well, fuck.

Next Aster knew, he was on his back, and Jack was straddling him. The winter spirit had a good hold on Aster's wrists, and had them pinned down next to his head. "Bunny, you idiot. I - there's no one else, okay? Just you. And I - you're my best friend and I love you, okay?"

Aster's eyes widened. A part of him was analyzing just what Jack had done to get him on the ground, and trying to figure out the best way to counter it next time. The rest of him was a bit hung up on what Jack had just admitted.

"Me too," he stammered, and then winced. "I mean, you too. I mean, uh..."

Jack smiled, and reached up to cup his cheek. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. You're kind of obvious about it."

He was? Aster cringed.

"Besides." Jack let go of Aster's wrist, and sat back. On Aster's stomach. It made it hard to breathe, for several reasons. "You really think I'd have sex with someone just 'cause I'd had some punch?"

"No?" After a second to gather his thoughts, he repeated himself, more firmly. "No."

"Well then." Jack spread his hands, and stood up. "Oh, I almost forgot! Swung by Burgess, yeah? Sophie asked me to pass on her Christmas present to you."

Sophie? Aster couldn't help the besotted smile. "How's she doing? I didn't want to hang around after, you know..."

"Jamie got involved with the bully, Sophie demands you return to Her Royal Presence, and she's dedicated these pictures to you." Jack rummaged about in his sweater pocket, and then pulled out several hand-sized pieces of cardstock, covered in talented - but childish - drawings. "She's on a goose kick," he added, and handed them over.

Some kind of goose kick, Aster agreed. There were five pictures, all of them involving geese... and eggs, he noticed with amusement. One picture was of a flying goose, carrying a young woman who herself carried several brightly coloured eggs. A swimming goose had an egg on its back. So on and so forth, culminating in a picture of two geese - bringing the total to six, as Aster had kept an amused count - and a nest of eggs. One of the geese was white, and for some reason had the name Jack written below it. The other was gray, and had Bunny written below it.

"Ah, Jack? What's with this, then?" he asked, and pointed to their names.

Jack stared at him for a long moment, sighed, and shrugged. "Ask her. I'm not a mind reader. But I think this picture should be titled 'Sophie is Subtle'."

Then, Jack ducked his head and muttered, "or maybe 'Bunny is as thick as a brick'."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Cottontail." Jack smiled up at him, and then bounded forward. He'd leaned up onto his toes and pressed a kiss to Aster's cheek before the Pooka could react, and then pulled away before Aster could lean into the contact.

Jack stared at him, his expression intent and unreadable, for a long, long moment. Aster stared back, confused. Finally, Jack sighed, and his expression shifted to one of amusement and resignation. "I've got to go, Cottontail. Enjoy your six egg-laying geese, yeah?"

"Yeah, Jack." Aster looked down at the pictures. Sophie had done a good job.

When he looked back, Jack was gone. For the best, really. Aster had been given something new to think about.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... six geese a laying..._


	7. Seventh Day of Christmas

_On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tooth brushed ineffectively at the tea spotting her chest. At least her feathers were water resistant, so it came right off. "You _slept_ with him?"

"You're making it sound much worse than it is." Aster clutched his teacup in both hands, and tried not to look down. Ledges. Tooth was a big fan of having all her socialization areas up high on ledges. Because she was _evil_.

"You're the one that slept with Jack." Tooth paused, and stared at him from under her eyebrows. "While blitzed on the punch."

"I wasn't blitzed, Jack wasn't blitzed, there was no blitzing!" Aster sipped at his tea, and checked that the edge - and long, long drop down - hadn't gotten any closer. He was pretty sure it hadn't. Not entirely sure. Glacial creep was slow but incredibly steady.

"Sure there wasn't." Tooth picked up her cup again, and sipped delicately. "So, even though you knew very much better, you still went and... How did you put it? Did the naughty with him?"

Aster hunched his shoulders. "He came by the next - the next day? Yeah. And he said he wasn't upset."

Tooth frowned, and pointed one finger at him. "Stay right there." She set her cup down on the low table, and flew out over the small - barely half a foot high - balustrade and then down out of sight. Aster cringed; sure, Tooth could fly, but he hated seeing her do that. It was horrifying. Watching Sandy was always somehow worse, especially when he wasn't flying a mock-plane or flying carpet or something like that. Tooth had wings, Sandy... usually didn't.

It wasn't so bad when Jack was flying, he reminded himself. But that was because Jack got such a charge out of flying, and Aster had been helplessly head-over-heels in love with the wintery arse for well over two centuries now - pathetic of him, really - and, well... Jack.

Tooth came back, and settled down on her chair. "Sorry about that," she said, smiling. "I had to check in on the girls."

"Ah, right." He looked down into his tea, still mostly undrunk except for a few nervous sips, and cleared his throat. "What should I do?"

"Do?" Tooth crossed her legs, and rested her cup on her knee. "Do about what?"

"Jack," he snapped. "He said he wasn't upset, but he was fussed about something, and -"

"Hey, Tooth!"

Speak of the winter spirit and he should appear. Aster clamped his mouth shut, and watched as Jack soared into view, a tumble of blue and brown and a bright, happy grin. And a large bag, red in color but nothing like North's gift-sack. North didn't make a habit of patronizing - what gym was that, Good-something or other.

"Whoa, hey, Bunny! I was looking for you!" Jack dropped down and landed on the balustrade, just the tips of his toes. Aster realized he was staring half a second after Tooth realized he was staring, and he looked away from Jack's feet and her smug smirk.

"What for?" Aster held very still as Jack walked along the balustrade, and started breathing when he stepped down onto solid ground. And then stopped breathing again, but because Jack was sitting down on his lap. "There's two other chairs, sit there!"

"Dun wanna, you're comfy." And... that _wasn't_ a leer, because Jack didn't leer.

"For the love of - Jack!"

Tooth giggled at that, and said, "I think that's why he's sitting on your lap, Bunny. For the love of Jack."

Aster stared at her, and wondered why the world had no justice and he couldn't set things on fire by glaring.

"Aw, chin up, Bun-Bun." Jack wiggled a bit, and put the gym bag on the table. "I come bearing gifts!"

"Oh, gifts?" Tooth leaned forward and hovered. "What kind of gifts?"

Jack laughed, and opened the bag. "Gifts like this," he said, and pulled out a small, plush... Tooth?

"Ooooh!" Tooth kicked her heels, and took the miniature of herself from Jack. "Oh, I love it! Look at this! My wings!" She held the plush out for Aster to view - but not take, considering the way she pulled back when he lifted a hand. It'd been knit, or crocheted, rather hard to tell with the way she kept wiggling it back and forth. The wool chosen was mostly a shade of green almost the same as her feathers, with purple and gold tufts on the head to mimic her crest. Her wings had been made out of some crinkly looking, transparent fabric that shimmered where the light hit it.

"Cupcake made plushies of all of us," Jack said. "Her mom was watching the table when she sold out of everyone else, but Cupcake managed to save back one of you, Tooth. Apparently it's the last time she asks her mom for help packing, because she meant to keep back one for everyone, but whoops."

"That's great," Aster said, and did his best not to lean forward and wrap around Jack. "I'm glad for her."

"She also made a plush Pitch," Jack added.

Tooth and Aster both paused and looked at him. Jack grinned. "His head comes off. Velcro."

"How did she market that, I wonder," Tooth murmured.

"Boogieman be gone," Jack said. "The plush, uh, us, she just had as 'Guardians of Childhood', and then Pitch was there as anti-boogieman. Remove the head to warn off monsters in the closet and under the bed."

Aster couldn't help but laugh, but at least he was better off than Tooth. She started giggling and then didn't seem able to stop.

Jack looked pleased as punch and entirely too comfortable on Aster's lap. "Yup. Anyways, she said it'd be about a month before she's got us our copies," Jack said, turning to talk directly to Aster. "In consolation, she said I had my pick of what was left, so... here!"

And then he stood up - Aster was not disappointed Jack was no longer in his lap - and dumped the gym bag on his lap.

"What," Aster said, and pulled out... a swan? The legs were a bit weird...

"Supposed to be swimming," Jack volunteered, and held up another one. Yeah, Aster could see it, one foot pointed forward and one went back. "See? Swimming swans."

"That's great, Jack, and I hope Cupcake is proud of herself. Why're you giving them to me?" And how many were there? Aster started pulling them out and piling them on the small table.

Seven, he realized. Seven swimming swans and a scarf that had been knit out of the softest wool he'd ever felt. The colors were all different shades of green, and it had to be six feet long if it was an inch.

"Yeah, she made you that special for Christmas," Jack said. "I'm jealous."

"I'll have to leave her a few special googies in the backyard, then," Aster said, and stroked the scarf. A bit. It was soft, he had every reason to touch it.

"Anyways, you get the swans because I can't leave any of them with North, that'd be crazy." Jack huffed, and sat dramatically down on one of the empty chairs. "Do you have any idea how the yeti would take it? A stuffed animal, not made by them? There would be riots," he said darkly. "The screams would go on for days. No elf would be safe."

"Sandy?" he suggested. "Yourself?"

"You have a bed." Jack picked up one of the swans, and grinned. "Because, I thought you'd get a kick out of them. Don't you want them, Bunny?"

"Of course I do," he said, before he could think about it. But of course he did. Jack had gotten him stuffed swans.

Bloody hell, Jack had gotten him _seven_ stuffed swans. What the _hell_ was he supposed to do with them all?

"Great!" Jack bounced up onto his feet, and twirled his staff. "Welp, I'll leave you the gym bag. Gotta go let Cupcake know swans and scarf and mini-Tooth plush are all loved. See you tomorrow, Cottontail!"

"Tomorrow?" he asked, but Jack was already flying off.

"So," Tooth said, and cradled her plush self in the crook of her arm. "Seven swans a swimming."

"Where'm I going to _put_ them all?" he asked, and she sighed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... seven swans a swimming..._


	8. Eighth Day of Christmas

_On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Hey, Bunny!"

Oh, that did it. Aster slammed the bowl down and stalked over to his window. "Jack! For the love of - _how_ _do you keep getting into my Warren_?"

Jack looked adorably confused. "You never took the key back. Duh. So yeah, hey, Bunny, c'mon out! I've got a surprise for you!"

Aster swallowed, and headed out. "Why can't you come in?" he asked.

Jack hummed, and pulled out two pieces of stiff paper, about the size of concert tickets. "So, do you want one?"

"One what?" he asked, and took the ticket. And then stared. "Jack?"

"So, you told me you like Celtic music and stuff, and I was maybe harassing a couple Leprechauns, and they offered me tickets to go away, and it looked interesting, but it's tonight, do you want to go?" Jack panted for breath, and stared up at Aster with wide eyes.

"I, yeah, sure. You, uh, you know what the title means?" he asked. The tickets had been written in Irish, not English.

"The scrawny, gold-hoarding bastards told me, yeah. Eight Maids Milking, which makes no sense. That was a yes, you'll go with me?"

"It's a classic tale," Aster said, and then wrinkled his nose. "Alright, that one's a lie for the tourists, but the music and dancing are good." He looked down at the ticket again, and nodded. "Yeah."

"Great! We kinda have to go now, though, because time difference." Jack bounced on his toes, and stared at Aster. "So if you're doing something in the kitchen, put it on hold, we've got a show to go to."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The show had been enjoyable. Jack, not understanding the dialogue or music - other than saying it all sounded very nice - had made absurd, mostly joking guesses during the two intermissions. Aster had then corrected him; the eight maids were all sisters, competing with each other to catch the eye of the lad they all fancied. The lad, in his turn, had seven cousins, and while he fancied the youngest of the sisters, his cousins each fancied a different girl, and the inevitable hilarity ensued when the courtship got started. It didn't quite cross the line to a farce, probably because of the singing and dancing.

"Sounds a little bit like the time they put Romeo and Juliet to music," Jack decided. He took Aster's hand, and seemed oblivious to the way the Pooka jumped and stared at him, shocked. "C'mon, let's wander the hillsides. Think we can run across an elf?"

"Stop harassing the Fae, Jack," Aster chided.

"Why? It's fun!"

And the hills were nice. The little village where the show had been put on was a nice enough place, but wandering about the fields through knee high grass, under the crescent moon, was even better. Especially when Jack didn't let go of his hand. The sun had set during the performance, so the moon was the only illumination.

"So," Jack said, and looked up at Aster. As good as the moonlight was at making the landscape clear, it was pants at illuminating Jack's expression, which was mostly in shadow. "You enjoyed the show?"

He'd actually enjoyed the way Jack cuddled up beside him just a little more than the show, but it wasn't right to say that to his best friend. "Yeah, it was good. You?"

"It was fun." Jack leaned just a touch to the side, and rested his head against Aster's shoulder. "We'll have to do this again... After Easter."

"And after I recover from Easter," he joked. Well, partially joked. He did tend to sleep for a few weeks after the eggs had been set out and the worst of the mess had been cleaned up.

"Well, yeah." Jack waved his staff up at the sky, and Aster looked up. And then near about swallowed his tongue.

The sky above them was clear, but he could just make out the mounds of clouds looming over the village and surrounding fields. And - it was winter. Granted, it'd been a warm one, but there should have been snow on the ground. Yet it was more like a nippy autumn night instead. "Jack?"

Jack hummed in reply, and shrugged. "I'm just holding off the cold snap an extra few hours. It won't hurt anything. Better this way, even, everyone will be all tucked up in bed when it hits."

"I thought you couldn't hold off weather systems?" he said quietly.

"Well." Jack shrugged. "I can, it's just not the easiest thing in the world."

Even after all this time, Jack kept surprising him. "Then why would you?"

Jack tugged on his hand, and Aster stopped walking. "Because I love you," Jack said. He shifted, and all at once the moon illuminated his slender form, his skin glowing in the silver light. "And I wanted tonight to be special for you."

"You - what?" Aster's breathing sped up. Jack had said that once before - that he loved Aster - but he didn't mean it the way the Pooka wished for. He never would. No one ever did; he was too strange, too alien, for anyone on Earth to think of as... as romantic material. Or even as a fling. He was too human for the animal spirits, and too human to be interested in them that way, but he was too animal for the humans. And, honestly, the humans were physically... uninteresting, though he'd _tried_ , in the early days. He created, and went with his instincts, and he'd been turned down so many times that it'd been easier to accept that it wasn't going to happen, and spare his heart the pain.

And then Jack, _Jack_ , beautiful and wonderful, and Aster hadn't paid attention even though he'd fallen for Jack a long time ago. He'd ignored it, because it would never end up anywhere but pain, but pain had hit anyways, hadn't it? Jack had asked him for romantic advice, and Aster had been forced to acknowledge that he didn't want to be alone anymore, but he didn't have any choice, and... well.

"I love you," Jack said again, and squeezed his hand. "I have for a while."

Aster shook his head, but the motion was so faint it was entirely possible Jack didn't see it. "I don't... understand," he admitted.

"There are not enough hours in a day to explain," Jack said, and laughed. "Anyways, I'm telling you because I've now had a grand total of three shovel talks. Four, if you count what the kids pulled." He sounded fond.

"Shovel talks...?"

At that, Jack huffed. "You are incredibly lucky you're a looker," he said. "With brains like those... Yes, Bunny, shovel talks. You know, 'this is the shovel I'll bury you with' talks? North threatened me, Sandy threatened me, Tooth threatened me, the kids threatened me. It was adorable."

Aster shook his head again. "But - you can't love me. Not like that. You - you like girls, don'tcha? And, and there's someone else, you asked me for advice...?"

Jack lightly kicked the side of his foot. "I am good with any and all genders, so long as I care about that person," he said. "Male, female, something else, as long as there's emotional attachment it's all good." He paused, and added, "And I have extreme emotional attachment to you."

"But, but that's not -"

"And don't forget the lust," Jack added, sounding thoughtful and not as though he'd just turned Aster's world upside down. "I want to do things to your abs that are probably illegal."

That just... what? "Did you hit your head recently?"

"You think you're cute but you're not." Jack started walking again, and towed Aster behind him. "Just so you know, I know how you feel. I don't know if you have any plans for my abs or anything, but I am completely open to just about everything. And I'm going to continue courting you, because god knows one of us has to do it."

"You've been courting me," Aster said. "Since the partridge?"

Jack glanced back at him, and smiled. "I've put a lot of effort into figuring out the hows and whens and whats," he said. "I'm not letting your obliviousness wreck it for me."

"Jack, I..."

"Relax, Cottontail. But I hope you like presents, because there's more coming."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... eight maids a milking..._


	9. Ninth Day of Christmas

_On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sandy floated upside down, eyes level with Aster's, his feet kicking idly. _You,_ he said, _are being deliberately obtuse._

"Am not," Aster snapped. He ducked a low branch - Sandy floated over it - and continued walking. He wasn't sure exactly where he was - somewhere in Africa, in an overgrown orchard or something. The trees had clearly been planted in neat rows once, something that never happened in nature, but just as clearly no one had been tending to the place for at least a decade. Maybe more. Trees had died and fallen over; had thrived and gotten overgrown; the underbrush was... there. It was Africa, and the air was hot and dry. In this area, from what he'd seen, the underbrush liked a bit more room than was available between the trees.

Sandy moved to float in front of him, and he had to stop or run into the dreamweaver. He scowled, but Sandy began signing to him before he could look away.

_Jack has stated his intentions very clearly, yet you claim not to believe him. Why is this?_

"Because he's talking nonsense." Aster turned at right angles, and started walking again. "He - he's too young to know - and he clearly hasn't thought this all through. I'll grant you he might have some kind of crush on me, but love?" Even to his ears, his laugh sounded poisonously bitter. "No."

Pooka had great peripheral vision, especially compared to humans, so Aster was able to see Sandy talking even though, technically, the dreamweaver was back and to the side of him. _I think you are afraid._

He told himself it was anger that made his throat tighten, even as he whirled on Sandy. "I am not!"

Sandy looked unimpressed. _Oh, no? A romantic relationship would be a great deal of commitment, and you are a devoted bachelor. I can see why you might be nervous about -_

"I am _not_ and you're talking out your damn arse, Sanderson." Aster showed his teeth, and not in a smile. "One, I never wanted to be a bachelor, it just happened. And two, it ain't the commitment, it's the aftermath. When Jack gets over the stupid crush he's got -"

Sandy's expression stopped him mid-sentence, and Aster huffed. He folded his arms and looked away for several minutes, though he could still see the former star.

_If you never wanted to be a bachelor, why are you, then?_ Sandy looked genuinely confused. Aster had _known_ the idiot tended to sleep through things, and not pay attention to just about everything else, but _really_?

"How many relationships have _you_ been in, then?" he demanded. "We're aliens, you daft..."

_But I know you've had offers from other spirits before. They didn't seem to care._

" _No_ , they cared about the fact that I look like a humanoid rabbit." He thought the term for those spirits was 'furry', but didn't much care. "They were only interested because they're into animals, and I'm _civilized_ the way the animal spirits _aren't_. Arseholes."

Sandy looked confused again. _Is that so bad?_

"Yes! It'd be like - it _is_ them only wanting to be with me for _their_ pleasure. Not because they like me, not because they care about me, only because of what I could do for them, which is enact their fantasies where they fuck me and I don't talk!"

Sandy thought that over. Aster turned so that this time he couldn't see the dreamweaver, from the corners of his eyes or otherwise, and started pulling dead leaves off a tree branch. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair that the only chances he had for a relationship - not even that, for nothing but _sex_ \- were to swallow his dignity, his pride, and his sense of self-worth, and debase himself into acting like something, some _one_ he wasn't.

He'd hated the very idea the first time it'd come up, and he continued to hate the idea to this day.

Sandy moved into sight. _Jack likes you, for yourself. And I know he doesn't think of you as an animal._

"A human with animal attributes, then," Aster muttered. There were spirits like that, though usually they were... werewolves, certain kinds of trickster spirits, that sort of thing.

_No. He talks to me, you know._ Yes, he was aware. Jack had talked to Sandy long before the fiasco of '68, or joining the Guardians. Infrequently - Jack liked to be places during the day, when there were children to play with, while Sandy obviously traveled through the night - but often enough for their own brand of strange friendship.

_He thinks of you just as Bunny. And admires all sides of you. Artist, warrior, scholar... 'angry grump that scratches behind his ear with a foot' I think is the best description._ Sandy paused, as if to let that sink in. _The courtship you have described seems to show how much he knows and cares about your opinions and feelings. Even the chickens._

Yeah, the chickens had turned out nice. He got three eggs a day, he didn't have to worry about weeding anymore - the chickens ate the specks of growing weeds as they poked out of the dirt, and the odd bug that snuck in - and they were as tame as any pet budgie or canary. Actually seemed to like cuddling.

"It still doesn't..." He didn't even know what he was going to say, but it _didn't_. Jack - Jack couldn't care about him like that. No one ever did, so why would Jack now?

_Are you afraid to start a relationship, only to break up with Jack?_

Yes. No. He had no idea. The thought of - Jack would insist they remain friends, he would, and the awkwardness would pass, but the idea made his heart clench.

And if... if, impossible as he knew it was, if they entered a relationship, and it didn't fail...

Aster closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "I can't do that again."

Sandy poked him in the shoulder after several minutes, and Aster opened his eyes. "I can't. I - I lost everyone, Sandy. Everyone I loved, everyone I hated, everyone I knew in passing, everyone I didn't know. _Everyone_. I can't - I can't lose anyone, ever again. It'd hurt too much."

There was a reason why he'd been so determined not to make friends with the other Guardians. Why they'd had to drag him, kicking and screaming, to socialize with each of them. He had no idea why they'd persisted, but he was grateful they had.

Even if sometimes he couldn't sleep at night, worrying about what would happen. North was human, sort of, and still aged. Extremely slowly, but one day he'd die. Tooth would, too. Sandy would fade, as all stars did. Manny would die. Jack... Jack would die, or leave him, or leave him and die, and he just... couldn't.

_The greater the risk, the greater the reward,_ Sandy offered.

"Or the greater the punishment," he countered.

Sandy would have hummed if he'd had the vocal cords, but the waving lines overhead served the same purpose. Finally, the lines stopped, and he stared at Aster. _Why don't you talk to Jack about this?_

He shook his head, and looked down at the tree branch. He'd pulled off every dead leaf, and was apparently picking at the bark now. He'd stripped half the branch, revealing creamy wood. "I can't."

_Why not?_

"Because..." Because Jack would admit it was the fur attracting him. Or Jack would laugh. Or Jack would decide Aster was too much trouble, and leave forever. He didn't know. They all seemed rather valid to him.

Sandy huffed when he voiced the thoughts. It was an impressive feat, considering he didn't have any lungs. _The first, there is a simple way to test that. Transform yourself into a human before you see Jack next. And then talk to him about the rest. Jack wouldn't laugh at you. Not about this. And he won't leave, either._

_You must have faith, Aster._ Sandy rested his hand on Aster's shoulder. _You must have hope, Guardian._

Hope. He wasn't even sure what he had to hope for. "Yeah," he agreed, because Sandy wouldn't let up if he didn't. "Alright. Guess I'd better get back to the Warren. So he knows where to look for me."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It'd been centuries since he'd last taken human form, and the memory of when, and why, hung over him like a shroud while he worked on himself.

He'd... designed, really, a form that he found attractive enough. Tall, though not quite the 6'1" he claimed in Pookan form. At least a good foot of that height was in ears, anyways. As a human, his height was probably closer to 5'10", which was still a change in eye level. Bare skin, mostly - he'd tried the hairy chest and back thing, but it'd felt weird, so he'd shifted enough to get rid of it. Though nothing he did got rid of the hair under his arms or at his groin.

Aster preferred the darker skin tones, though for himself he went with a warm sepia skin tone, like good, Australian dirt after a heavy rain. He'd tried that dark, dark color, just about true black, but it'd never looked quite right with the facial features he preferred. His hair was the same color as his fur, a shade of gray not normally found in animal or human - though it'd been common enough for Pooka. With a bit of tweaking, his face shape became a little more angular, his cheekbones a little higher and sharper, his mouth a little wider with thinner lips. His nose he left alone; he almost liked the straight, long line it made down the middle of his face.

He left his markings alone. They were his. Not for anything would he get rid of them.

He also left his muscle tone alone, beyond shifting things to a human appropriate physiology. Not everything translated exactly; humans had two extra ribs and three less vertebrae than Pooka, but for the most part, there were enough similarities. Humans also couldn't run on all fours, but Aster was comfortable enough walking on his hind legs.

He didn't always _like_ it - the way his feet had healed after... after, had ensured that much. Some - alright, most - days it was just easier to go on all fours.

Once he was finished with his tweaking, he studied the results in the mirror. Gave himself a little more - sideburns, they were called - at the corner of his jaw, then a little less. Made his eyes a little bigger, then tried making them smaller - then went back to bigger. He'd started playing with his earlobes, making them attached to the sides of his head, then unattached, and then varying degrees between, when he heard Jack calling.

Like this, in his bedroom and Jack outside, he couldn't actually hear the words. It was incredibly annoying, and not for the first time, Aster had to wonder how humans could stand being more than half deaf.

Aster stood up, wobbling only a bit. He'd already adjusted his foot wraps, groused over how he could do all kinds of shapeshifting but apparently couldn't get rid of that persistent ache, and done a bit of practice walking. He'd even rustled up a pair of dags that looked similar enough to modern day track pants as to make no never mind. He'd even put them on.

Now, to see what Jack thought. Aster frowned, and started towards the front door. He... He hoped Jack wasn't a furry, actually. Or - Jack was so far much more respectful than every other spirit that'd ever approached him, should he be hoping Jack _was_ attracted to fur? Aster preferred having fur. But... oh, he didn't even know.

"Hold on a racking minute," he yelled, when he heard the pounding on the door. He yanked it open a moment later, and glared.

Jack's smile faltered, and his eyes glazed over. "Guh."

Was... was that a good 'guh', or a bad 'guh'?

"Bunny," Jack said, after very obviously swallowing. "Bunny, you're naked."

He paused, and added, "I can see your _belly button_."

Aster twitched. Jack grinned, and reached over to trace one finger in a burning line down Aster's chest and stomach, to his waistband.

"Wow," Jack said again, and then stepped back. "So, what's the occasion?"

Aster twitched again, and then gestured inside. He waited until they were seated at the kitchen table before he talked, though he kept getting distracted. His chair was built for his Pookan anatomy, not human. It was... just very subtly off, and every time he shifted brought that difference to mind, though it wasn't anything he could point at as the main problem.

"Do you like me better like this?" he asked.

Jack blinked several times, and then chuckled while shaking his head. "You're a goof," he said, sounding fond. Aster twitched anyways. Jack set a wrapped package on the table, and reached for Aster's hands. "Damn, but you're hot like this," Jack said, though Aster thought it wasn't something the winter spirit had intended to say aloud.

Jack rubbed his thumb across Aster's knuckles, and smiled. "It's not better or more, but yeah, I like you like this. I get to see you _naked_." He leered, and grinned, and Aster couldn't help but smile faintly in response.

"What I mean is... is it only the fur that's got you chasing me?"

"No." Jack squeezed Aster's hands. "Not a chance. I'm not going to deny I like your fur, because I do. You've got the best coat in the world, Bunny. Soft, and warm, and I'd cuddle with you all day, every day if you'd let me. But it's because it's _your_ fur that makes it special, not just that you've got fur. Do you... understand?"

He shook his head, unable - unwilling - to speak.

Jack huffed, and leaned back, though he didn't let go of Aster's hands. "Okay. How about I try explaining this way. It took me a while to - to be attracted to you, physically. Even after I'd fallen in love with you."

He wished Jack would stop saying that. The sprite _couldn't_ love him.

Right?

"It's just, you're kinda... you're kinda alien, Bunny. You're not human, you're not a rabbit, you're not a werewolf or a minotaur or an elf or anything like that." Jack squeezed his hands again. "But the more time I spent with you, the more normal you became. To me. I mean, for a while there, I'd get surprised at my own reflection, because I wasn't furry and didn't have big ears."

Jack chuckled, and Aster smiled again. He knew exactly how Jack would look like, as a Pooka. He'd stopped sketching it out when he'd realized what he was doing. Not just a thought experiment, but... he didn't know.

"And then, one day, I realized that I was physically attracted to you. That everything that'd made you alien and kinda weird looking... was normal, and beautiful, and attractive. Your fur, your ears, your cute little fluffy tail..."

Aster scowled. "Rack off about the tail."

"Oh, you _do_ talk. I was starting to wonder."

"Oy!"

Jack grinned, the flecks of white in his eyes dancing like snowflakes. "Well, you don't normally let me ramble on like this. But anyways, you, your fur and ears and everything, it became normal to me. And then it became beautiful. Although I gotta admit..."

Jack let go of Aster's hands, and stood up. He rounded the table, apparently to get a better look at Aster. "You make one damn attractive human, Cottontail. I just wanna lick you all over, and this way I wouldn't get fur in my mouth."

Aster huffed, and reached for Jack. The winter spirit came willingly, and curled up on Aster's lap. It was strange; they'd never cuddled like this before. It felt right though, natural. Jack fit, neither too big or too small for comfort, and while his hair and skin were cool to the touch, they weren't cold.

Jack only got cold when he was upset. Most of the time, he felt like some kid who'd gotten chilled running around playing in the snow.

"I don't understand," he admitted. "No one's ever..."

"They're all idiots and you can do so much better than them, anyways." Jack lifted his head, and cupped Aster's face in his hands. "Like me."

The kiss was easy, and gentle. There wasn't any awkward fumbling around with different profiles, trying to fit a human mouth and Pooka muzzle together in a way that worked. Jack's hands started to wander, over Aster's shoulders and biceps, up and down his back and sides. It felt good. Strange, not having Jack's fingers stroke through his fur, but good.

Jack pulled away first, but he was smiling. "Actually, kissing wasn't part of my plan."

"What?" Why not?

"Meant to give you your gift first."

Oh, right. "Jack," he asked, half-warily. "What even _is_ your plan?"

"Ultimately? You, me, bed, lube, lots of sex." Aster choked. "But short term, gifts. Ones that I know you'll like." Jack pulled the package across the table, and then gestured to it. "Go on."

Human fingernails weren't nearly as good as his claws for tearing through paper. Still, he managed, though how humans put up with this nonsense twenty-four-seven he had _no_ idea. Under the paper was a cardboard box, and the lid lifted off.

Inside was a... a sculpture. Wooden, he realized, and carefully lifted it out. It'd been made of all different kinds of wood; cherry for the base, walnut and lime and elm, pine, redwood and cedar and aspen, pear and mahogany. All different colors and grains and textures, carved until he had nine ladies in dancing poses, all in a circle. There was one European woman, a Russian lady, a Nigerian princess and an Egyptian priestess, an Indian woman of high caste, an Aztec, a Chinese woman with tiny feet, and a Native American, and even - he chuckled to see it - Pippa in a modern day dress. Each one was a different wood, and the skill that had gone into the carving took his breath away.

"North helped," Jack said, and ran a finger carefully over the Egyptian priestess' hair. "You can't cheat with wood. Or I can't. Took forever, it felt like, but it looks good."

"Yeah," Aster agreed, and turned it around in a circle, the better to see each woman. "Nine?" he asked.

"Ladies dancing," Jack said as if that was an answer. "I'm going to finish this up, you know. Three more gifts."

Aster refrained from protesting. He didn't understand it, couldn't fathom what Jack was about, but he was enjoying the gifts.

He rested his cheek against Jack's hair, and admired the nine ladies dancing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... nine ladies dancing..._


	10. Tenth Day of Christmas

_On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I just want to start off by saying," Jack said, beaming proudly and wearing the most absurd clothing Aster had ever seen. "My dad was Ukranian and taught me everything."

"What," Aster said, whiskers trembling.

Jack raised one hand. The nine - frost-figures? Animated ice statues? - copied him. They were all, Jack to statues and back again, dressed alike, so it was rather eerie. Billowing blue trousers, probably silk. Billowing, white linen shirts, heavily embroidered at cuffs, collar and hem with blue thread. And Jack was wearing blue leather boots, calf high, that looked as flexible as his bare feet.

Aster gulped desperately at his tea, and prayed for understanding.

And then the lunatic began to leap and spin about, echoed and supported by his nine backup dancers.

Jack managed to jump up, and kick his legs in a split kick that brought his heels almost level with his shoulders. And then do it three more times, with no sign of strain. It only got weirder from there.

Every single dancer, Jack or otherwise, did at least one odd spinning leap where the body twirled parallel to the ground. Jack did an odd circle of them, leaping and spinning and going around the circumference of the 'dance floor' as he did. His silk trousers and linen shirt billowed and emphasized the movements of his arms and legs.

And then the ten dancers dropped to the floor, and for all the world, Aster was sure that was a break dancing move. They bounced and spun on one foot, other foot dragging around in the grass, before they bounded up onto their feet with bright smiles again.

More jumping. There were even a few flips, forwards, backwards, and sideways. Jack's fellow dancers picked him up and flung him between one group and the next, like a living beach ball.

Then, apparently, the dancing slowed down, because while nine dancers stayed at the back and kept time by putting one leg forward, then back, in a steady rhythm, the tenth dancer began an equally rhythmic leap, spin, and kick.

When it was Jack's turn - he was the last - he began, well...

There was a reason why Aster called him a show pony, after all.

Jack leapt and kicked higher, spun faster, and then dropped back onto his hands and kicked his legs out in front of him, brought his weight onto his feet without bringing his body up and forward, and repeated the whole thing a good dozen times.

And when that was done, it was back to the kicking and spinning.

The whole thing ended with five minutes of _prisyadka_ , which Aster only recognized because North had corrected him enough times. That Russian squat dance, as the Western World referred to it. Most of the Eastern too, in all likelihood.

The dance finished with the ten of them springing back up, and stamping their feet several times. The ice statues were still smiling, but then they'd been smiling the entire time. Jack was beaming.

"What'd you think of your ten leaping lords, Bunny?" he asked.

Aster clutched his tea cup, as if it'd help any. "Have you lost your _marbles_?" he demanded.

Jack frowned. "What about my mind?"

" _You don't have one!_ "

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... ten lords a leaping..._


	11. Eleventh Day of Christmas

_On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aster woke up slowly, reluctant to leave the comfortable nothing of sleep. He was warm, and the cushions were soft. Nothing had gone numb overnight. He didn't feel hungry or thirsty or a pressing need to go to the dunny. He had no idea why he was waking up.

Yet, he was. Aster grumbled, and shoved his face into a pillow. Then he rolled over, opened his eyes, and about had a heart attack.

"Jack!" he bellowed, once his pulse had calmed down from a million beats a minute to only a couple thousand. "What the hell!"

Jack smiled softly, and reached over to stroke lightly across Aster's shoulder. "You're adorable when you sleep."

Aster stared, and then flipped him off. With several different cultural versions. Jack started laughing at the fifth one.

"There are anti-stalking laws in Australia," he grumbled, and pulled himself out of bed. He was up, time for brekkies.

"Good luck. Anyways, I figured you'd be awake by now, it's almost noon. Australia time," Jack added, and made a face. "Time zones."

Aster frowned, and then looked over at Jack. "Noon?"

"Saw the sun in the sky myself, oh fluffy one."

Huh. Noon. Aster shook his head and got to work making food. Jack sat at the table and watched, except when he gave advice such as 'two eggs, not three' and 'I want bacon'. Aster, for the most part, ignored him, but he ended up with two plates of food anyways. Jack dug in with an almost obscenely happy sound - or a happy sound that was almost obscene - and Aster picked at his meal.

"Are you cranky I snuck in?" Jack asked around a mouthful of bacon.

Aster stabbed his egg yolk and frowned at him. "Not happy about it, no."

The idiot seemed to consider it, but considering this was Jack, he was probably figuring how best to ignore Aster's perfectly reasonable upset. "Okay. I have a gift to make up for it?"

He grunted, and stabbed the egg yolk again. And then scooped up that section of egg and bit it in half. "What?"

"Y'know those Australian spirits that have a midsummer celebration this day every year, and don't let you or any one watch? Because you're not Australian?"

Yes, of course he knew. It was the one insult he could not shrug off or ignore. He had been Australian since the time of Pangaea, who the hell were these toddlers to tell him he wasn't? And chase him off? He grunted in answer, and stabbed his other egg.

Jack eyed him nervously, as if Aster was about to turn the fork on him next. "I did a little arm twisting and got them to admit they were being asshats about you," he said, talking fast. "I mean, you're older than Australia, how can you not be Australian? You even like vegemite and, like, no one does that. Not even Australians. So, um, you're formally invited to the celebration and I'm invited too because I iced one guy's feet to the floor by accident. Um."

Aster paused, and squinted at Jack. "What?"

Jack made a face. "Did I talk too fast again?"

He thought about what he'd heard. "I think I understand the individual words, but together they don't make much sense."

"Okay." Jack leaned forward and gestured oddly with his hands. He looked a bit like he was trying to mimic karate chops, or maybe use his hands to slice and dice the air. "So, you're older than Australia, right? And these guys are just being elitist bastards in telling you to piss off. So I cornered them and yelled a lot and used logic. Now they say it's okay for you to join them instead of going to yet another Christmas party or staying at home if you don't want to. And if you say piss off to them, I do have another plan, but I don't know..."

He stopped jerking his hands about, and played with his fork. "So, uh, you wanna? Go, I mean."

Aster thought about it. "What's option two?"

"A wind chime." Jack paused, and added, "The chimes are all carved to look like flutes, and there's eleven of them."

Aster frowned, and leaned back in his chair. "Showing up would annoy those elitists to hell and back, wouldn't it?" he asked.

"Probably. They were pretty ticked." Jack picked up a slice of bacon and studied it carefully, and then ate it in two bites.

"Then I'm going. But I want that wind chime."

Jack made a face. "Sure, but it doesn't work if there's twenty-two pipers. Christmas day."

Aster huffed, but nodded. "Fine." He paused, and added, "Wait, these guys play the pipes?"

"Well, no. Two of them are on the digeri-thingy -"

"Digeridoo."

"Right, that, and the rest are on, like, percussion and stuff like that. But there's eleven of them, and I figured you'd like that better than watching The Magic Flute or something."

True that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... eleven pipers piping..._


	12. Twelfth Day of Christmas

_On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... (twelve drummers)_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was the evening before Christmas, and Aster was doing the duty of a good friend and keeping North away from the sherry. And the vodka. And the tequila, larger, wine, stout, and any other number of alcoholic beverages.

"Really, Bunny, you are being foolish. I am Santa!" North patted his chest, and beamed. "I would not be drunk for the world, especially not on this night. I will simply have a little drink to brace against the cold."

Aster didn't move from in front of the drinks cabinet. "And then another, and then another, and next thing you know you're tipsy and forget how to drive," he snarked. "No."

"I will be fine."

"No you won't, you never are! Remember last time? The whole Rudolph nonsense got started 'cause you thought there was a storm and instead you were just shit-faced." Aster folded his arms, and managed to look down on the taller man. "No drinks for you."

North opened his mouth to reply, but a yeti wandered into the office with a clipboard and a stack of papers half an inch high. North was distracted by paperwork, and Aster had a minute to think.

He'd taken North duty for the first time in centuries, and not just to be a good friend. Christmas tended to put his back up for a lot of reasons, and it was easier just to avoid North and the nonsense than deal with it. Out of all the holidays, Christmas had always seemed to be the one that changed the most over the years. Other holidays had vanished into obscurity, for various reasons. New ones had sprung up. Christmas, whether it was the Roman Saturnalia, or an even more ancient ritual to celebrate midwinter and the longest night of the year, lingered.

And it was _frustrating_ , incredibly frustrating, because everything kept _changing_ and he was supposed to smile and go along with the times.

Maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he wanted to celebrate in the old way, with a few candles, a good meal, and staying up until dawn. Maybe he wanted to stay inside, where it was warm and comfortable and his feet didn't hurt, instead of accompanying North on the sleigh. Maybe he didn't want to put forth a lot of effort in getting his friends gifts, because a single day wasn't supposed to be more important than showing them how much he cared throughout the year.

Mostly, though, the current commercial aspect of the holiday just made his teeth ache.

North finished with the yeti, and turned back to Aster, no doubt to continue his wheedling and nagging. Aster had less patience for that then Tooth did, so he stepped forward and caught North by the arm. "Need to pick your brain for a minute, mate," he said, and tugged the Russian towards the chairs.

North let him, looking bemused. Fair enough, it'd probably been a while since anyone had tried distracting him from the alcohol instead of simply blocking him.

Aster didn't figure North had a problem about drinking, as such. No more than anyone else who'd been born in the fourteen-hundreds, when the beer had been safer to drink than the water. And North only ever felt the need to over-indulge when the clock was ticking towards show time on Christmas Eve. But Aster also figured that it was better to just distract North from the nerves that drove him to drink in the first place.

"Alright, my demanding friend." North settled down in a chair, and glanced over at the drinks cabinet. Then he looked at Aster, and sighed. "What questions have you?"

"Jack's been giving me prezzies." Aster coughed when North smiled, but didn't seem surprised. "Guess you know about it."

"I might have figured it out, yes. The four colly birds were great clue."

"Yeah, well, I still can't figure out where he's getting the idea from," Aster admitted. He was sure there was a theme, now, but what? "I've got a... a crazy idea, but it's _Christmas_. And Jack knows I don't like it."

North snorted, and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Twelve Days of Christmas," he said, and then began humming an off-tune rendition.

Aster let it go on for three repetitions, before pulling a small piece of chocolate out of his belt pouch and flicking it at North. Who promptly snatched it out of the air, unwrapped the bit of foil, and popped it in his mouth.

"Oh! I like this flavour, what is it?" North asked, beaming. "Is good enough to be Christmas candy."

"Oy," Aster muttered, without too much heat. North was as fanatical about 'proper' treats for his holiday as Aster was, and a compliment was a compliment. Even when it sounded a bit backhanded.

"So it's the Twelve Days of Christmas," he said, and thought back to eleven days ago. Jack had given him a plastic figurine of a partridge in a pear tree... Aster grimaced, and resisted the urge to slap himself in the forehead. "Bugger."

"Yes, Bunny," North said. He didn't sound unsympathetic, at least.

"But the song talks about true love," Aster protested.

"Oh, please, do not try saying that. Tooth and Sandy have both been to see me. I agree, you are too quick to think yourself unlovable. And I know you have reasons," North added, and jabbed a finger at Aster. "But they are stupid and foolish."

Aster scowled, and then shrugged. "In this situation, I reckon you're... right." Jack had certainly been convincing. And if Aster privately thought Jack was a bit touched in the head, that didn't have much to do with things. "Isn't Jack a little young?" he asked North plaintively. "I'm older than the planet, he's not even hit three and fifty."

"Three _hundred_ and fifty," North said. "Three and fifty is making me think fifty-three."

Eh, true. Aster shrugged one shoulder.

North tapped a finger against his lips, and resettled in his chair. "What you keep forgetting about Jack is that he is older than he looks." Aster knew his expression must have been screaming _well, obviously_ , because North chuckled and shook his head. "No, no, I don't mean just three hundred years stuck as seventeen year old boy. I mean, mentally and emotionally, he is in late thirties. Yes? First, life as human. He told me once he had no father growing up, so from young age he was man of the house. Much responsibility there, I assure you!

"Then, his time as spirit also aged him. Winter is also big responsibility. Now that his memories are his again, the two have been combined. You have noticed this, have you not?"

Aster nodded slowly. The Jack he'd first met had been, well, a child. Easily amused, easily diverted, possessed of astonishing insight but innocent of the world. The Jack of then would have, and had, thrown fits over the slightest of things. This Jack was calmer, which was saying something. "I suppose so."

"For all your age, Bunny, I am thinking you are also in mid-thirties, emotionally. You have seen and done much, but you are still young in your thinking." North gestured madly, and leaned forward. "You are not weary of the world, or tired of simple, every day things. There is always something new that you are surprised by, and enjoy."

Aster nodded again. "That's true of you, and Tooth, and Sandy," he pointed out.

"And is why we are good friends." North pointed at Aster. "But, you see, Jack is same age, mentally, as the rest of us. And you would not think twice about my age, or Tooth's, if things were to get romantical between us."

"Never happening." He shuddered. "You do nothing for me. Same with Tooth."

North waved it off. "Yes, yes, you have said so before, but you understand."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure what you're getting at."

North frowned at him. "I am not sure, then, why you keep going on about Jack's age. Or why it matters, considering."

Aster opened his mouth, and then closed it without saying a word. Why did it matter? He probably could've said things about robbing cradles or feeling like he was going through some kind of midlife crisis - which had always seemed like some idiot trying to justify doing stupid things, to him - but none of them felt right.

If he was honest... "I'm afraid," he admitted. North looked encouraging. "Well, _you_ know. I can't... I can't lose people I care about again."

"No one lives forever," North said gently.

"I do." Aster looked away, towards the window, feeling uncommon bitterness steal over him. "I don't age. I don't change. It's not shapeshifting - that actually sped up Pooka lives," he admitted. "You'd think otherwise, but it's a major strain... anyways. Me, it doesn't do anything. I don't get old, North."

"No," North said. He leaned forward and caught Aster's wrist. "But no one lives forever. Not even you, my friend. All things end. One day, the last star in the sky will go out, and there will be nothing to replace it. But that will be a long time coming."

North waited until Aster was paying him his full attention, and then said, "Do not borrow trouble from tomorrow, Bunny. No one knows what will happen."

Words of advice to live by, Aster supposed. He nodded, and leaned back in his chair. Time to get off the subject, he decided. If only because things had gotten just a little too seriously. "Don't think you're going to get a drink after this," he said. "You only get more incoherent with alcohol, not less."

North looked annoyed, but before he could respond, another yeti showed up. And Jack.

"Yo, Santa," Jack said, and grinned. An elf tried sneaking past him to do who knew what, and he tapped it lightly on the hat with his staff. The elf was promptly covered in a thick layer of frost. And started running in circles, either pleased or dismayed by the fact. Aster was the only one who seemed to notice.

"Jack! My boy, what are you doing here?"

Jack laughed, and moved over to sit on Aster's lap. Aster tried not to show how delighted and confused he was by the gesture. "One, to wish you luck on your run tonight. You're on in five," Jack added, and laughed again at North's sudden look of panic. "Two, I'm here to steal Bunny away by any means necessary."

The yeti grumbled something to North, and held up his red, woollen coat. North stood up and pulled it on with jerky motions, looking more like he was headed towards being burnt alive at the stake instead of his present delivery run.

"You'll do fine," Jack said. "Just don't puke."

North grimaced at him. " _Thank_ you for that. _Very_ helpful."

"How many of these runs have you done by now?" Aster inquired. One a year, at least three... almost four centuries... "You'll be right."

North just looked sicker. "So long as I do not mix up toys. So many names that are the same, across all the countries."

"You'll be fine," Jack said again, and gestured to the yeti. "Unless you skip checking over the sleigh and plummet out of the sky."

North actually squeaked at that, and hurried out of the room. Jack was kind enough to hold in his laughter until North's footsteps were out of his hearing, but Aster couldn't help but start chuckling immediately.

"Why would you do that?" he asked, and stood up. And then winced, because he'd just dumped Jack to the floor. He hadn't intended to do that.

Jack didn't seem to bothered, at least. He grabbed onto Aster's belt and pulled, until he was back up on his feet. "C'mon," he said. "Let's go back to the Warren. I've got a gift for you."

And then, damned if Jack didn't tug on Aster's belt again. "And once that's done, I was thinking we'd go early to bed."

Aster gapped at him, and then found himself smiling. "Yeah," he said, surprised at the words tripping off his tongue. But not unhappy about them. "Reckon we could do that. If I didn't pin you to the couch or table or something and take you right then and there."

Jack stopped, and blinked up at him. "That sounds awesome," he said. "But the lube's already in the bedroom."

Aster frowned. "When'd you get into my _bedroom_?" he demanded.

Jack snorted, and muttered something that sounded like 'please', and headed for the door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As expected, Jack made himself comfortable in the sitting room without waiting for an invitation. Or for Aster to join him. The way Jack treated Aster's home was much like, the Pooka supposed, Jack would treat his own place. That really should have been annoying or something, but instead, it just made Aster feel warm inside. Jack treated Aster's home as his own. And, well. Considering how things were going between the two of them, was that a bad thing?

No. It wasn't.

"Alright," Aster mock-growled, and settled down beside Jack. The idiot smiled up at him, and then cuddled in to Aster's side with a happy little sound that did interesting things to Aster's libido.

And that was alright, wasn't it, because Jack was courting him. Loved him. Was going to stay with him.

"Yes, Bunny?" Jack asked, his innocent nature as much pretend as Aster's growl.

"What I want to know is, twelve drummers. How're you going to pull that one off?"

Jack laughed, and danced his fingers up and down Aster's thigh. "You figured it out, huh? Good. And... creatively, the way I've done all the rest."

Aster raised his eyebrows. "Three French hens?"

"Yeah, okay, that was half-accident," Jack grumbled. "I was actually planning something else, and then the chickens happened. But you kept them."

"Yeah," Aster agreed, and started playing with Jack's hair. "I did."

"So." Jack reached into his sweater pocket, and pulled out a small cube. "North made this."

"I can't accept it," Aster deadpanned. "It's corrupted by the touch of Christmas."

Jack laughed, as he'd intended, and held it up so Aster could see it better. "So, press this button..." He tapped the... top? And the cube lit up. It actually reminded Aster of Pookan technology; the holoscreen was a bit basic, but the closest he'd seen on this planet. There was a - a list of songs, he realized, and then laughed. Twelve songs, all of them percussion.

"Ah," he said, and took the cube from Jack. "Twelve drummers drumming."

"I only picked your favourites."

Aster nodded, and turned the cube over. Jack frowned at him.

"Looking for the off button," he explained.

"Like this." Jack tapped the top of the cube again, and the screen vanished.

That worked. Aster set the cube aside on a handy end table. That also happened to be a pile of books. It worked, and he had more important things to focus on anyways. He turned to Jack, who smiled beatifically back.

"You've been courting me for twelve days now," he said, voice dropping a whole two octaves. Jack hooded his eyes and shivered. Good. "Don't you know it's the elder supposed to court the younger?"

"If I'd waited for you to get your stuff together, I'd end up three _thousand_ and you'd still be debating whether I would agree to coffee," Jack said. He pulled his shirt off, revealing creamy skin and slightly darker nipples that'd already pebbled up into hard little nubs. "Figured I'd make us both happier faster."

Hard to argue with that...

Aster pressed Jack down against the couch, and stroked a thumb over one nipple. Jack gasped, and arched into the touch. His pupils started to dilate, just before his eyes rolled back and his eyelids fell. Aster growled, and repeated the touch.

"You're sure about this?" he asked, his tone as harsh as his words weren't. "We don't have to go all the way."

"You're an idiot," Jack murmured. He reached up and caught hold of Aster's ears. Jack stroked the bases of his ears, and if Jack had felt half this good having his nipples stroked... Aster was fairly sure his brain was starting to liquefy.

"It's... just." What was he saying? Oh, right. " _Sex_ is gonna... um. Bind us. Magically." Oh, that felt _good_. "Just rooting around won't."

"I'd noticed, after the party." Jack stopped what he was doing, which was a huge disappointment. "I was kinda sad about that, I was looking forward to a magical tie or ten."

"Um." Now that he thought about it, so was Aster. Not that just having sex would create much of a bond, unlike marriage. Just a general sense of where Jack was, and if it wasn't - ahem - renewed frequently it'd fade and disappear. Marriage would come with a more permanent tie, creating a unison between their respective magics. Aster wondered if they'd get telepathy, or empathy, the most common effects of such a bond, or something stranger.

Jack moved his hands down Aster's body to his shoulders, and smiled. "I want to be part of your life, Bunny. In all ways I can be."

Aster shivered, and pressed his face against Jack's neck. "I believe you."

"You just don't understand why," Jack said, sounding absurdly amused. "It's okay, I've got forever for you to figure it out." He began to scratch up and down Aster's shoulders.

The Pooka sighed, and relaxed into the touches. Even did a bit of touching back, since Jack's nipples were _right there_. Jack squirmed and sighed beneath him, every little sound and movement utterly arousing in every sense of the word.

"You mentioned lube," he said, when the silence had stretched on for several minutes. A comfortable one, but with the way his body was reacting, one he needed to break. "You're sure about that?"

Jack hummed, and smiled Mona Lisa's smile. "I want to ride you until we both come," he said. Aster lifted his head, and raised his eyebrows.

"You're sure about _that_?" he asked. "I think I'd know if you'd ever had a - a relationship with anyone before."

"The gossip would be flying," Jack agreed, and opened one eye. "Yeah, you'd be my first. Well," he amended, "technically that dildo I stole would be my first, but details."

Jack had stolen a dildo. That probably shouldn't have been nearly as arousing as Aster found it. "You're sure you don't want to be on top, though?" he persisted. It wasn't as though he'd mind. Granted, he preferred to be the one on top, he was a bit too dominant to relax entirely in bottoming. But it was hardly unpleasant; it just wasn't quite as mind blowing an experience as being the one on top.

Jack tugged on Aster's ear. "Yeah, I'm sure. I have absolutely no interest in... well, if I ride you, I'll technically be on top. Since, you know, you'll be the one lying down." He grinned, and his eyes twinkled at his own wit.

"Technically, whatever," Aster muttered. He stroked his hand down Jack's side, and frowned. "I'm bigger, proportionally, than a human my size would be." Not by much, granted, but a single inch could feel like a mile when it came down to it. And he was quite a bit thicker around.

"How do you know? I thought you never looked?"

"Biology textbooks."

Jack pursed his lips, and nodded. "Yeah, okay. Look, how about we see how things go, and decide when we're in the bed and all slicked up and ready to go. I think it'll be fine, but we'll go slow. Yeah?"

It was ridiculous that Jack was the one leading the way in this, when Aster was the one with actual experience. Still, the winter spirit was making sense.

"Alright," he murmured, and pressed his lips to Jack's shoulder. "We'd better go now, then. Before my knees melt."

Jack snickered, and stretched underneath him. "I'm pinned down. You're going to have to move first."

Aster sat up, and admired the way Jack looked, halfway to naked and at his ease. His pale skin and hair contrasted the dark brown of the couch, making him look ethereal. Then again, a lot of things did that to the winter spirit. Apparently, it was a gift.

Jack looked at him, and smiled as if he could read exactly what Aster was thinking. He stretched again, muscles flexing under his skin, and stood up in an easy, liquid flow of motion. "C'mon," he said, and caught up his sweater and staff. "Let's go to bed."

Aster shivered, and followed, helpless to turn away. Helpless, and eager.

Jack continued to lead the way all up to the bedroom door, at which point he finally hesitated. Aster paused beside him, and stroked one hand over Jack's shoulder, down his arm, and finally took the winter spirit's hand in his own.

"I know," he whispered. "I'm nervous too."

He wasn't even lying. There were many reasons for his own case of nerves. It'd been a long time. This was going to change their relationship. What if he mucked everything up? But the nerves were nothing compared to the desire, the faith and the hope. He loved Jack. Jack loved him. If he didn't understand, at least now he believed.

And he wanted to draw Jack down into the cushions of his bed, and make the winter spirit feel every ounce of Aster's gratitude and love. He wanted to touch every inch of Jack's skin, memorize the taste and feel and every last sound. He wanted... so much, and the nerves faded in the face of it all.

Jack gripped Aster's hand tight, and took a deep breath. "I want this," he said, and his lips trembled before he smiled at Aster. "I do. I just..."

"Let's start by getting your pants off," Aster said. "I'll get off my kit. And then we'll lie down and touch each other a bit, yeah. Bit of kissing, too."

"Yeah." Jack took another deep breath, and then a third. "Yeah, that sounds good." He squeezed Aster's hand again, and then let go. "Anywhere I should put my clothes?"

Aster snorted, and pulled off his bandolier and belt first. "This is me," he pointed out. "Anywhere. Just not in the path to the dunny."

Jack looked confused, before he rolled his eyes. "You have one?"

"Once a century is still grounds for having one," Aster pointed out, mocking 'prim' for all he was worth. "B'sides, what if I get sick and need somewhere to puke?"

"Charming," Jack drawled, and leaned his staff up in a corner. He grinned at Aster, and moved his hands to his belt. "You are an example to everyone."

Aster grinned, and pulled off his bracers. And then he got into bed and started unwrapping his feet, though he stopped to watch Jack pull his pants off.

Though it was much more... sensual than that. Jack slid the leather down, so it glided over his hips and thighs, and pulled around his ankles. Like unwrapping a treat. Jack was half hard, and looked all gangly limbs and a shy smile.

"Come here," Aster demanded, and finished tearing the bandages from his feet. "Come here, come here, come here."

He all but moaned when Jack slowly approached the nest, and sated himself on watching each step, the way Jack's muscles flexed and relaxed, the slide of skin overtop and the way the light highlighted and shadowed Jack's body. It was glorious. Beautiful. Breathtaking.

Jack knelt down on the edge of the nest, and stared at Aster. His expression was a shifting play of emotion. Nerves and desire warred with Jack's ever present humour, and something infinitely fragile-looking that Aster _knew_ was love.

Aster held out one hand, and Jack came to him. He curled up on Aster's lap, bare skin to fur, and sighed with such a pleased little sound it made Aster's heart hurt.

They started slowly, little touches, little kisses. Sipping pleasure from each other. The sensations built one upon the other, embers becoming an all-consuming fire.

Aster fell back against the pillows, and arched his neck. Jack mouthed along his throat, teeth and tongue not hampered by Aster's fur. Jack's fingers dug into Aster's biceps; Aster clutched tight to Jack's side, his hip, and groaned when their erections brushed against each other. It felt good, and Aster arched up into the contact.

Jack moaned, and sat back. Aster released Jack's hip, and pressed his hand to that pale chest. Jack pressed into the touch, and stared directly into Aster's eyes.

"The lube is up by your head, on that mockery of a night stand," he said, with a bare minimum of stammering.

Aster grinned, and found the vial with only a little fumbling. Jack took it from him, and uncorked it. He poured a generous amount out onto his fingers, and waggled his eyebrows at Aster.

"You're sure?"

"Keep asking and you won't get any," Jack said. He worked the lube - some kind of aromatic oil - over his fingers, and then gave the small vial to Aster. "Watch," he said, and leaned back against Aster's upraised knees.

Jack began to stroke himself, from just behind his balls to his hole and back again, before focusing on that tight ring of muscle. Aster propped himself up on his elbows to watch better. And he knew, just knew, that Jack was putting on a bit of a show for him.

The winter spirit circled his hole with the tip of one finger, and then slowly began to press his finger inside himself. At the first knuckle, he pulled out, only to press back in again, deeper, until he was pressing all the way in and sighing deeply. Jack pulled his finger out, and then repeated the process with two fingers. Aster breathed heavily, and held still through a force of will.

Did Jack have any idea what watching this was doing to Aster? It'd been forever since he'd seen anything like this - well, seen and _enjoyed_ , anyways. The temptation was there, almost overpowering, to pull Jack's hand away from his body and replace those fingers with his tongue, or better yet, his cock.

He trembled at the thought of sinking into that tight heat, and Jack grinned. "Not yet," he whispered. "Patience, Bunny."

And then he slid a third finger into himself.

Aster gasped, and looked up at Jack's face. The winter spirit's head had fallen back, his eyes were closed and his mouth partly open. Jack panted, light little gasps as he worked his fingers in and out of his body in an easy rhythm.

"Gonna slick yourself up, or just watch?"

Aster grunted, and poured out a measure of the oil onto his own hand, and then worked it over his cock with the bare minimum of care. Jack laughed, and pulled his fingers out.

"Yeah," he said, and reached back to take hold of Aster's cock. "I'm ready too."

He shifted up onto his knees, and leaned back until the tip of Aster's cock pressed against his hole. Aster rested his hands on Jack's thighs, and realized Jack was trembling. Fair enough, so was Aster.

Jack slid down, eyes half-closed and expression nothing short of euphoric. He went all the way down until Aster was fully hilted, hips tight against Jack's, Jack's tight warmth pressing against every last millimetre of his cock. Aster pressed his head back into the pillows, and sucked in breath after breath.

"Didn't figure you'd be this warm," he said, after scraping together the ragged pieces of his composure.

Jack braced his hands against Aster's shoulders. "You're the only one who knows better," he said, lips turning up in a smug little smirk.

Yeah, he _was_. And he'd _stay_ the only one, too.

Aster growled, and his hands slid to Jack's hips again. " _Move_."

Jack laughed, bright and happy, and complied. He started off slow, inching up onto his knees until only the tip of Aster's cock stayed within him, and slid down just as slowly. Aster tolerated the pace, enjoyed it even, but his body ached to switch their positions. Pin Jack like a butterfly on a corkboard, and pound into that slight body until Jack's entire being was focused only on the pleasure Aster gave him.

But he held back, because Jack wanted him to. Because Jack deserved more than a fast-paced and mindless rut. There was a time and a place for that. Now wasn't it.

Jack began to speed up, and his cock started to bob and bounce against his belly. Pre-come began to drip down his cock and smear his belly. Aster moved one hand long enough to swipe a few drops off Jack's shaft, and lick his fingers clean. He couldn't taste much from such a small amount, but the expression on Jack's face was more than worth it.

Aster clutched Jack's hips, and began to lift and pull Jack back down onto his cock, harder than Jack was doing on his own. Jack laughed, and let him take over, bracing himself against Aster's chest with one hand and stroking his own cock with the other.

The pleasure built, and built, and then Jack convulsed above him, and his muscles clamped down on Aster's cock. It tipped Aster over the edge as well, and he ground up into Jack until he collapsed, spent, into the pillows.

Jack nuzzled into Aster's chest, and whined faintly when Aster made to pull out. Aster hummed to himself, and rubbed his chin against Jack's hair. He would've figured Jack would be uncomfortable, but if he wanted Aster to stay tucked up inside him, then that's what he'd do.

"Love you, Bunny," Jack murmured. He rested one hand against the side of Jack's neck. "See you in the morning."

Aster grunted, and curled up a little more around Jack. The morning was far away. This, right now, this was more than he'd ever imagined.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... twelve drummers drumming..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue tomorrow.


	13. Christmas Morning

_On the morning of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack woke slowly, to a strange feeling of relaxation and an almost normal feeling of being filled. Almost, because normally he'd fallen asleep with his dildo still in his ass, not Bunny's cock.

He stretched a little, and if he'd been a cat, would have purred loud enough to wake the dead. As it was, his happy little hum was quiet enough Bunny never twitched, still deep asleep and likely to stay that way for a bit longer. Good. He deserved his sleep. It'd be in short enough supply in under a month, when the egg plants started going crazy.

Besides. He was beautiful when he was asleep.

Jack could still remember the first time he'd had that thought, and every subsequent time after that. Looking back, it was fairly easy to figure out that he'd been in love by that point, though at the time he hadn't understood why he'd felt so warm and fond. It'd taken two centuries, and an almost cosmic shift in opinion in how homosexuality was viewed and treated. Things still weren't great - Jack wouldn't be fully pleased with things until everyone was treated equally, regardless of their orientation - but it was so much better than when he'd been growing up, or even just sixty years ago.

His own shift in opinion had been less cosmic and more "oh, thank _god_ I'm not _broken_ ", although his ensuing freak out over realizing just which male had caught his fancy... It had probably contributed to the Easter Sunday of '68 fiasco, for all that Bunny seemed ready and willing to take all the blame. It took two to argue, and what'd they'd had made arguments look tame.

Once he'd gotten over himself and come to the conclusion that Bunny was it, no ifs, ands, or "but he's furry", he'd... started experimenting. And making sure that when it came time for sex, that he wouldn't be completely hopeless in bed.

He didn't think Bunny'd had any complaints last night. He'd certainly seemed to be having fun.

Jack had. Another reason to experiment a bit with fingers and a toy. He didn't feel any lingering soreness, at least nothing that wouldn't fade in an hour or two, or after a bit of proper incentive.

He hummed again, and reached up to stroke the side of Bunny's neck. The overgrown rabbit shifted, arms tightening around Jack's back, but he didn't wake up. Jack wasn't disappointed. He had a feeling his thoughts were written all over his face, his love and adoration visible for everyone - especially Bunny - to see.

Though, thinking about it, Bunny needed to be told that sort of thing more. How much Jack loved him, how wonderful he was. Sandy was right, the Pooka didn't believe he was attractive, desirable. Jack hoped to change that, and quickly. He'd just have to be persuasive.

Bunny shifted again, and moved his hips in a languid rolling motion that ended with him pressing up against Jack. He'd been half-hard, an odd but at the same time good feeling, but now he hardened fully. Jack sighed, and half closed his eyes to savour the sensation. While at some point he'd like to find out what it was like to top, he couldn't imagine it feeling half as good as being filled to the limit by Bunny's warmth, or the way sex had felt like being caught up in one of those big waves. Just that sense of power, being on top of it but not in control.

No one could control Bunny. Jack certainly wasn't going to be the one to try.

He ran his fingers through Bunny's chest fur, and rocked back into the languid thrusts. He watched, and smiled when Bunny cracked his eyes open. Someone was awake, and no doubt checking to make sure it wasn't a dream.

"Morning," he whispered, and pressed a kiss, as slow and languid as the lovemaking so far, to Bunny's lips.

Bunny sighed into the kiss, and his thrusts began to deepen, becoming longer and stronger, though still as sweet as when he'd started. The pace felt like something that the two of them could keep up for hours, even days. Just slowly building pleasure, Jack thought, being stretched and filled and the tip of Bunny's cock brushing against his prostate with every thrust. There weren't any stars, no banging drums, no explosions. It wouldn't have been appropriate anyways.

He shifted, and moaned at the feeling of Bunny's fur against his skin. His nipples and cock seemed oversensitive, and after a minute he realized he was shifting, just a little bit, forwards and back, to get more of the feeling. Bunny smirked at him, and then rolled, until he pinned Jack to the cushions.

It only meant there was _more_ of that delicious feeling of fur against skin. Jack wrapped his legs around Bunny's hips in encouragement, and stroked his hands up and down the Pooka's back.

Bunny pressed in against Jack and then held there, not pulling out. Jack opened one eye, and hummed.

"I'm not dreaming, am I?" Bunny asked, his voice rough from sleep still.

"No," Jack assured him. "You're not."

"Oh." The Pooka's smile was unexpectedly sweet, and Jack had to swallow down a sudden lump in his throat. "Good." He began to move again, with apparently all of his attention focused on the simple thrust and slide.

Jack sighed, and relaxed. After a minute he realized he was murmuring words, disjointed bits and pieces of praise and encouragement. Bunny began to speed up, thrust harder, though his pace was still glacial compared to their finish of the night before.

Jack's orgasm came as a complete surprise. He sucked in his breath and arched up off the cushions, shaking. Bunny thrust a few more times, and then he, too, came. He lowered himself onto Jack, and made as if to roll away. Jack had to hold tight to prevent that; he liked the way Bunny covered him, pressed into him and held him down with his greater weight.

Jack had stopped shaking fairly quickly, but Bunny continued to tremble, and he kept stroking Jack's arms and sides. Jack wrapped an arm around Bunny's waist, and unwrapped his legs.

And then he pushed and twisted and had Bunny pinned before the Pooka realized what was happening.

Bunny's cock slid out, unfortunately, and Jack really did regret that. It'd felt nice, like a promise of something more, even soft and limp. Still, it wasn't like they couldn't have sex again. Jack intended for it to feature quite prominently in the future.

"Morning, Cottontail," he said, and beamed. He felt good. Everything felt good. "Want pancakes?"

"Whu?"

"Great!" He bounced up off Bunny and onto his feet, and started for the door. Clothes, no clothes... meh. No clothes it was. Semen trickled down the inside of his thighs, his own and Bunny's, and it tickled and felt a bit weird. Weird enough that he actually detoured to the bathroom, wet a washcloth, and cleaned himself up a little bit. He still smelt, even to his weak (according to Bunny) human nose, like the Pooka and sex, and that was the important thing.

He'd finished all but two pancakes by the time Bunny wandered into the kitchen, looking delightfully rumpled and confused. By the damped down fur about his lower stomach and groin, he'd washed up a bit too. Jack smirked, and flipped the pancake he was cooking.

When he'd finished, he set the hot pan aside in the empty sink, to cool and await eventual washing. He set a plate of pancakes in front of Bunny, and the second plate in front of himself, and then bustled about getting a pitcher of cooled juice - pomegranate, which actually tasted better than he'd have expected - and a jar of honey onto the table.

Only when he had everything set out to his satisfaction did he sit down, and turn his attention properly to Bunny.

Bunny stared at him with utterly adorable confusion and affection. Jack reached over with one hand, and caught Bunny's. "Hey," he said, and smiled.

Bunny smiled back, and stared down at their hands as if surprised. "Morning. So, uh. Obviously last night happened."

"And this morning," Jack replied, aware of how smug he looked and sounded, and not caring. "And this afternoon, and evening - twice - and -"

"Wait, what?" Bunny's eyes widened. "It's not afternoon... yet... Jack?"

"I'm planning ahead, sue me."

The Pooka looked like he was trying to understand the term, and the idea, so Jack took his hand back, cut a bite of pancake, and held it to Bunny's mouth. Bunny ate it absently, paused in mid-chew, and looked from Jack, to his fork, to the plate, and back up again.

Jack smiled in return, and started eating.

He was finished long before Bunny, who ate his pancakes at a glacially slow place. And Jack knew glacially slow. Still, he waited more or less patiently - today, rather more than less - and then chivvied Bunny out of the kitchen and towards the sitting room the moment Bunny had swallowed the last bite.

"But the plates," Bunny protested, though he went willingly enough.

The world was probably ending, but Jack didn't care. "They're not going anywhere." He pointed at the small love seat, and bounced on his toes. Ugh, no pants, other things bounced too. "I got you one final thing, Bunny, siddown."

"The wind chime?" Bunny asked. He sat down, and then looked around, the very picture of suspicion. Probably looking for anything that looked remotely like a Christmas tree, but he needn't have worried. Jack hadn't even smuggled in any mistletoe, though he intended to, once he'd explained the kissing tradition.

Of course, Jack did intend to leave out that kissing under the mistletoe was a _Christmas_ tradition. He'd be just as pleased if it became a year-round one.

"Yeah, in a minute, this one's more important." And hidden behind the chair in the corner. Jack pulled out the box, and took a deep breath. He'd found - okay, borrowed-without-intention-of-returning - a box used to wrap up those fancy dress shirts in men's stores, and put the present in there. He'd thought there'd be more room; as it was, the gift had only just fit.

"Here," he said, and carried it over to Aster. He sat down beside the Pooka, and then all but shoved the box into the overgrown rabbit's arms. "Open it."

He leaned back, and discovered a new drawback to not wearing clothes, probably unique to him. He had nothing to clutch and fiddle with, except his penis. Which, no. Not the time, and with how nervous he was, he'd probably accidentally circumcise himself or something. He settled for wringing his hands, and his fingers started to hurt almost immediately.

Bunny stared at him, frowning, before turning an equally dubious look on the box. He opened it slowly, tilted ever so slightly away from himself.

"It's not a joke," Jack said, quietly enough he doubted Bunny heard him clearly.

Besides, the Pooka was too busy staring at the gift.

"Jack," he said, and then clamped his mouth shut. After a minute, he tried again. "Do you... know what this meant in... in Pookan culture?"

Jack swallowed, and forced his hands still. "The same thing a diamond ring does in America today. Yes."

Bunny looked up at stared at him. "Who told you?"

"Sandy."

Bunny muttered something that sounded like 'figures' and went back to staring at his gift. Jack's proposal. Oh, boy.

And then Bunny pulled the fancy belt out of the box, and held it up.

Jack still wasn't sure exactly why pieces of armour and a _belt_ had been used in Pookan courtship. It probably made sense from a giant alien rabbit perspective; from a human perspective, and more to his point, still nominally Puritan in viewpoint, it seemed... kinda weird. Then again, the diamond rings had seemed weird when they'd gotten started, so he really had no right to point fingers, considering the current obsession for courting couples looking to make things permanent.

Anyways, the belt looked good, at least. He'd put a lot of work into it, bribed a few dwarves for the tricky parts, and it'd come out nice. It was made out of gold, or at least, a gold plated metal, the same stuff as the armour Jack had commissioned for Bunny. The dwarves had about thrown a fit until he'd agreed to the gold plating, instead of pure gold... and not the point.

He'd have to bring them a present or something, because looking at it again, the belt looked really good. It looked woven, and in a way it was; he had no idea how they'd done it. It wasn't chain link and it wasn't a bunch of strands or plates, and it wasn't carved or moulded. It just _was_ , almost as flexible as linen cloth and a thousand times shinier. The same snowflakes and frost patterns had been worked into the belt, though with precious stones and silver, which - according to Sandy - was important. No gemstones for the armour, lots of bling for the belt.

Jack had personally found each and every last moonstone, sunstone, opal, and an entire silver bar.

Bunny's hands started to tremble, and he put the belt down. "Jack," he said, voice trembling more than his hands.

"I want you to have it." Oh, look at that, Bunny wasn't the only one with a wobbling voice. Jack swallowed around the lump in his throat, and soldiered on. "I don't need an answer, though it'd be nice if you'd say something, even if it's 'not yet'. I just. I want you to have it."

Bunny ducked his head, and traced one curling line of frost over the belt. "You -"

"I've been in love with you for over two centuries now." He waited for most of the shock in Bunny's expression to fade. "I know what I feel. I know that I want forever with you."

He waited, feeling like his heart had climbed into his throat, for at least a minute. Maybe two. Then Bunny reached over and took his hand.

"You gonna want a diamond for your finger?" he asked.

Jack smiled, and lifted Bunny's hand to his mouth. "Oh, I already got a ring for you to give me," he said, and kissed the palm. "It's an opal. Green."

Bunny smiled at him. "You like green?"

"My favourite color," he promised, and moved to press a kiss to his fiancé's lips.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_... His heart, and a wedding ring._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, we come to an end. An end to the Christmas gifts, an end to Bunny's confusion... An end to the story. Merry Christmas to you all, and a happy new year!


End file.
